A Hillock Poem by Goodnews mememugh Karibo

A Hillock



Dimpled crates,
fetch fire and ice

wrinkled ribs
hug clinching claws.

Under the skies' shut eyes
still as death, it lies-

upon its head,
rainbows rain lowly

upon its feet,
termites' castles sit.

Through summer's whip,
girdled on winter's hip

under the skies' shut eyes
still as death, it lies.

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