Glen Chudley Poems

In a land far from here, where it always is cold
And the sun all too rarely is seen in the sky,
Can be found a small village, timelessly old,
Nestled in at the base of the mountains so high.
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Far from the cities and far from the towns
Where the forests stand tall and the rivers flow down
Through valleys and hills, majestic and proud
In this perfect place was the Hermit once found
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The trees, they blossom; flowers bloom.
The new-born lambs, they bleat.
But all this will give way, too soon,
To summer’s blazing heat.
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