The Great Hills. Poem by Tony Adah

On the day God's verve
Was still in tone and he was happy
He mixed clay and rocks
And placed them on some spots
And spoke to them
They rose to some great heights
He commanded pines, grasses and other trees
To grow here and the valleys followed.

The mountains wept with
Tears of its streams and rivulets
On this hot and cold clime
Of rolling hills coxcombed with clouds
Beckoning on the tired world.

The hills stroll
With their valleys in tow
Swallowing the descending clouds
And the pines whisper
In assonance with the twittering birds
And human ear relish
The songs of mother nature.