His Beautiful, Beautiful Hill Poem by Robert Rorabeck
His Beautiful, Beautiful Hill
Penny ante pageantry so blinds you that
You cannot spell—
I've been the sunlight over-spilling on
Your window sill—
And the world becomes just so many places
Without any sound-
Holidays and werewolves,
And housewives cavorting across the grounds—
In the beautiful echoes from which they
Spill,
As the crucify another god upon his beautiful,
Beautiful hill.
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5/14/2024 7:47:21 AM # 1.0.0.1119
