Observations from a Hill

J. Whitney R. Chapman

Chimney tops, roof tops, higher than

tree tops I stoop there on a hill

Sky blue, slate blue, cold as the wind

blew leaves that never stay still

Buildings jagged and clustered

I remained unflustered.

People are strolling, cars only rolling

down man made paths of grey stone

Children larking, dogs sometimes

barking break sleep of old folk alone

Church organ, choir sing hymn life

Sunday eve quarter past five

These are my observations from a hill

Towers and flowers, phone lines and road signs

All these things come to view

I look to the valley and there by a

shalley suddenly I see it's you

Beckoning me to follow

Maybe I'll come down tomorrow.

These are my observations from a hill.