Over The Brow Of A Hill Poem by Mark Heathcote

Over the brow of a hill and then the sea
Here, I once heard music in a nearby river.
A babbling brook,
The wild wind moving through flowering yellow gorse
The clouds are like choir singers on either side.
I am the conductor in all its majesty and throws.
Drawn to a rhythm of nature doe like dancing to walk
I am a chess piece salt shaker.
A little bit of salt and a little bit of pepper
A little bit of life that is observing itself
While losing the time left to carve some boiled ham.
And curl my toes to keep out the cold.
I am now nearing the sea, where at last,
I will happily dissolve into the shadows,
Into the sea. And just for a moment,
The cradles of the falling leaves will rock like empty husks,
Remembering me, the one who climbed into their boughs,
Laughing and crying, glad to be alive, but not always.