# The Ash of a Life: a Few Poems



## Wanderling (Dec 27, 2009)

*Moon Hill*

On an ancient hill in Yorefolkshire
Encircled by the whispering oaks,
Who sway in the wind’s gentle stir,
Unremittingly striving to coax
The Moon out of her silver dress,
I lie, enthralled by her quiet caress.

The Moon gives in to the oaks’ plea
And slips out of the cloud she wore,
Casting her smile on all, with glee.
I look up and with my eyes explore
The expanse unveiled by her light,​ Enchanted by the pastoral sight.

A brook nearby laughs with a star,
Its image caught in her nacre lips;
The blue meadows that stretch afar
Into the night, speckled with cowslips,
Form a tranquil ocean of shapely waves,
Which my melancholic soul enslaves.

Wet with dew and on the hill supine,
For a more innocent age I long,
For a forlorn communion I pine.
We once belonged to the same Song,
The trees, the stars, the brook and I;
A symphony from beyond the Sky.


(I might post some other poems later).​


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