A Sonnet: On the Hills

On the hills behind my home grows gold gorse,
Each patch like honey spilled upon the grass.
Crossing a creek with water clear like glass,
I climb ever onwards, set on my course.

Amongst nature I have little remorse.
Learning about life as though I’m in class,
I study in detail each life that I pass,
With thanks I stand nurtured by nature’s source.

Raw remnants remain, a lost lamb’s lost limb
Left lying, a sign of life and dying.
A mother sheep bleats, her grief growing grim.
And overhead a kestrel is flying

Taking no heed of this sorrow filled hymn.
The balance of nature edifying.

2019©DSCoremans

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: