Rhythmic Stories December 21, 2020

Hillside Ridge

The day started with a sky that was spirited blue

the blackbirds flying over just added to the view 

the things you could see from my hillside ridge 

the bumpy iron girders on the top of the old bridge 

the place where we played many days away

 swinging under the bridge like little monkeys we would sway

somewhere in the distant Hollow 

a squirrel would dart and old mustache would follow 

when I sat by myself it was quiet and still

Such comforting recollections from the Ridge by my hill

 Today as the sun sets with its fiery red and gold hues 

I’ll be content to sit and remember the ridge from my hillside view

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