Sonnet 5 - The Conqueror Poem by Dennis Lange

Earth's rippled hills outside the window spread
Like ocean waves, foam-crested, cedar green.
Rise! They swell to sky and thus are wed
As valleyed flower girls walk in between.

The hills hold mysteries, when down below
Man cannot see what lies beyond the crest.
The urge to climb, cross over yonder row,
Gives birth, like old, to an explorer's breast.

Besides the climbers, there are those who stay
To build, to nest like eagles near the skies;
A lure to stake a claim, to dwell each day
That nothing but an empire satisfies.

The one who lives atop a hill or crag
Is kin of conqueror who plants the flag.