The Hills Poem by Sarah Elizabeth Clark

The dogs breathe heavily
beneath cracked waves in pale, still water.
Light hits a diamond in the grass
and sunshine stems from the field.
Fairies and dragons flutter
from one empty space to the next.
In a willowy network of cover,
there is a grove in the shade.
Lion’s manes spring from the ground
and buzz ferociously.
Pup lies peacefully at my feet,
before bouncing off to chase some fantasy.
I survey the sloping hill
and ponder the poetry of home.