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

You may also like...

56 Chevy

I will not cry, I will not crumbleYears rolled past. Life gives us tumbles Youth on our side, but we never realizedThe Life that we lived was the best prize Rushing through dishes, then to Friday night datesHeaded to West...

Nov
17
2020
12

Twilight

The time of day when children playHappy voices still rising from the day Outside in the evening, it’s just about twilightIt’s no longer daytime but not yet night The time when stars are twinkling brightLook up you’ll see a breathtaking...

Feb
24
2021
1

Night Write

Early in the morning, not quite the night When everyone’s still sleeping tucked in tight There’s only the sound tick-tock tick-tock In the kitchen, as it echoes from a clock I listen for a moment to its rhythmic sound Not...

What’s that smell?

What’s That Smell? In the 1930s, during the great depression, a roaring lion had entered the scene in the form of abject poverty. The poverty of the Great Depression devoured families one by one. One day they had plenty, but...

 - 
Arabic
 - 
ar
Bengali
 - 
bn
German
 - 
de
English
 - 
en
French
 - 
fr
Hindi
 - 
hi
Indonesian
 - 
id
Portuguese
 - 
pt
Russian
 - 
ru
Spanish
 - 
es
Share on Social Media