To be surrounded by forested mountains,
Is to be embraced in a hard, cool, freshness,
Much like a firm hug,
From a parent straight from an ocean swim.
It is comforting and invigorating.
Wet body - cold,
Smell - unpolluted, natural, familiar.
To run about on a grassy hilltop,
Is to feel as free as flying.
Wind fills your hair and lungs.
It caresses your skin,
And the warm sun smiles,
Down on your upturned face.
After driving for many hours on monotonous plains,
I look out for the hills on the horizon.
It seems that my soul requires,
The reassurance of hills.
Here's the challenge - compose a poem each day for one year, that reflects my agrarian life. On our hobby farm on the edge of the Monaro my husband Matthew and I raise children (I have eight, though only five remain at home), sheep, goats, chooks, piglets, a milking cow and her calf, fruit and vegies. To support this enterprise I teach in the remotest school in Victoria - if anywhere in Victoria is truly remote.
Showing posts with label mountains. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mountains. Show all posts
Sunday, 25 October 2015
Saturday, 30 May 2015
Sleeping on a Mountain Top
The climb was hard,
Leg numbing, chest burning, hard.
And all the more dangerous,
For being executed in moonlight.
Although like midnight, the top would inevitably arrive,
It was a most longed for object.
The promise of rest was all that guaranteed progress.
The stops became more frequent and the rocky inclines
More treacherous and steep.
At last it was achieved,
And among the rocks, on uneven ground,
The tent was erected.
Sweat soaked body became chilled,
And gratefully accepted the warmth of the sleeping bag.
Despite the chill and the rocky bedfellows,
Sleep was as unpolluted as the fresh crystal air of the clear night.
Unmolested by any discordant cacophony of thoughts.
Perhaps being physically closer to heaven,
Sets the mind above the incessant buzz.
Leg numbing, chest burning, hard.
And all the more dangerous,
For being executed in moonlight.
Although like midnight, the top would inevitably arrive,
It was a most longed for object.
The promise of rest was all that guaranteed progress.
The stops became more frequent and the rocky inclines
More treacherous and steep.
At last it was achieved,
And among the rocks, on uneven ground,
The tent was erected.
Sweat soaked body became chilled,
And gratefully accepted the warmth of the sleeping bag.
Despite the chill and the rocky bedfellows,
Sleep was as unpolluted as the fresh crystal air of the clear night.
Unmolested by any discordant cacophony of thoughts.
Perhaps being physically closer to heaven,
Sets the mind above the incessant buzz.
Tuesday, 26 May 2015
Climbing Mountains
Sometimes,
You feel the stronge urge to escape.
When a mountain top calls to your soul.
It is not a loud voice,
Yet you hear it,
Deep in the confines of your chest.
Your lungs crave cool, clean air.
Your nose, the scent of Eucalyptus.
The track winds upwards,
You are always looking ahead.
Up, up, up.
Your stride is brisk at first.
Fatigue soon drags at your limbs,
Your breath gets shorter,
Steps become more laboured.
Your will expectant, but flagging.
Eventually, the peak sneaks up,
Quietly.
Effort is rewarded.
Hear your pounding heart.
Feel the stress lift.
Aching legs and shoulders,
Give way to relaxation.
You are now above the hub-bub and strains of the everyday.
You feel the stronge urge to escape.
When a mountain top calls to your soul.
It is not a loud voice,
Yet you hear it,
Deep in the confines of your chest.
Your lungs crave cool, clean air.
Your nose, the scent of Eucalyptus.
The track winds upwards,
You are always looking ahead.
Up, up, up.
Your stride is brisk at first.
Fatigue soon drags at your limbs,
Your breath gets shorter,
Steps become more laboured.
Your will expectant, but flagging.
Eventually, the peak sneaks up,
Quietly.
Effort is rewarded.
Hear your pounding heart.
Feel the stress lift.
Aching legs and shoulders,
Give way to relaxation.
You are now above the hub-bub and strains of the everyday.
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