Loudoun Hill

By David Satherley

What little mystery we can pull back

From the many and varied darknesses

Has very much to do

With our simple selves

The unexpected find of the great nothing

Out on the calm walks along the paths of following the hearts search

In the great need of all we desire ours

And its late fall on the dull side of my most favorite of hills

Where the cold sun sets all things to sleep in its quick drop

And the damp dusk rots the many other things

That follows us all home like dogs

And yes here


Stretching out over the clouds of years of my wanting

One favor for another's chance

I re-arrange the many cold stones of my own cairn



Don't we all in different ways come pause to this question

And the dark washes clean all things

In their many ways and forms

I no different from the rest

To quiet I sit and watch the sky fade into dreams

While I smoke another cigarette

Fern leaf and root

I step my asking

Along the dark furrows of this

My old land

That I have no promise

Fine enough to thank it for

Slow in the wet of my steps

I lift my boot to gain a foot up

On the gate

Between two heavens


Always my own my friend

The other side

Why it waits for all

And baa

The wet ghost forms of wool glow out

Behind me in the dark

And why

Baa   I baa back..