The Hill is magical. Everywhere. For it plays with its light, its air, its odor and it’s mystery around every blind corner.
I have always been amazed by how a hill plus with its lights. The morning brightness, the afternoon grey and finally the silvery slopes brightened by moon’s generosity.
I have always been amazed by the shift of faces with the shift of light.
As the last rays of the golden ball
Kiss goodbye, there is momentary
A light, but not lighted, we look for
Those familiar faces, they look so
Till slow and slowly, the silver ball
Appears from behind clouds, soft
That it has arrived to calm weary
Minds of the day, tormented with
It is time for rest
News faces will appear, Morning