There's a mist in the air in this beautiful place
And the cows in the meadow are grazing, apace,
The light hangs thinly on threadlets, serene,
In curtains of diamonds' oblique blue screen.
The frost clings white to shards of grass
Sculpting rolling hills a-gleam like glass.
For wherever I travel, wherever I roam,
There's nowhere on earth like the Hills of Home.
Yonder the green-ness rolling in hills,
The beauty of which, immensely fills,
My heart with a gladness, my soul with joy
A replete-ness my spiraling mindset employs.
For whether in Spain or the peaks of the alps
Or delving in tussock or diving through kelps,
Wherever the wondrous, whatever the thrills....
Nothing approaches.... my Homeland Hills.
A tingle abuzz, All my senses a-flair
Anticipation's delight is filling the air
A feeling pervades as I gaze out the door
Seeing mountains and blue skies, majestically, soar.
Watching rolling white clouds and the green hills, perform
And the pounding pulse in my chest, is the norm....
And the brilliant smile which beams from my face
Makes these Hills of Home.... My Most Wonderful Place!
M.
Foxglove@Taranaki,NZ
28th December 2022