The Hills I Now Dance Upon

Decades faded
Remembering
Old school
Mates,
With whom
I had spent
So much time
But who never
Really knew me
The old neighborhoods,
That taught me
To sail away on
Skate boards
While holding on
To billowing
White sheets
As
Those summer storms
Approached
And
How to fly away
On
The highest kite
Or
To design
Private worlds
Reading
Robinson Crusoe
A favorite aunt,
Much beloved
Who sometimes
Wore her sunglasses
In the dark
A generous grandmother
Who always
Saw my needs
Because she
Herself
Had walked
Eons ago in
Shoes not unlike
My own
My lab partners
Always the perfect
Second calls
And
Wonderful mentors,
Like dear old Dr. Bach
Whose grace irrigated
Hopes …his were
So sadly
Left over
In the Fall of Saigon
But
He never fail-ed
In his care, and
Continually,
Coached me
To reach
A bit higher
Bringing
Belief in self
A wonderful
Salesman
Was he
Selling
Goals beyond
The plates
Filled with day
Old scraps
Of lifetimes
Presented
By
Worldly lamenters
Who constantly
Whispered
In our ear
Faded dirty
Hand–me-downs
Tagged with
Ragged beliefs
That it was ok to
Look the other way
Waging
Ideas of old
Those were never
Good
For me
Let alone
Any small soul
I wonder,
What
Happened
To each of them
And, too
Are they
Aware
Of how they
Shaped the
Hills I now
Dance upon?

(Mountaintop Cottage, Tennessee
August 1,2006)

by Debora Short

Comments (2)

A delightful piece, fantastic title.
A beautiful title making a beautiful ending to this luscious poem which I enjoyed sampling. A delightful read. Very nice indeed. Love Ernestine XXX