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Hills of Home

White flowers on the hillside, spell out welcome to me
I learnt the names of most  of them, walking with my "tadcu"*

He told me all about them, how Garlic is good for wounds
The names of the songbirds as they flew close to the  high ground

Knew where to find a hare for the stewpot when it's cold
Or the sly old fox sneaking in the long grass, being bold

The hill has a stream running briskly to the base
From where it meets its sisters making it a river with much haste

Fish flopping about jumping over rocks evading the net
Pictures burnt into my mind which I will never forget.


*. Tadcu --- Grandfather


Penned. 11/06/2014

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