Chocolate Hills

Rounded humps, a landscape of dreams, or a nature's discarded chocolate kisses, scattered across the plain. Not green, not brown, but a shade between, a muted ochre, a sigh of the earth, in the dry season's hold. Perfect cones, a thousand, more or less, rising in silent chorus, a geological lullaby, frozen in time. Legends whisper, of giants' tears, of carabaos' battles, of a lover's sorrow, etched into the rolling terrain. The sun, a harsh judge, casts long shadows, painting the hills in stark relief, revealing the subtle curves, the silent, watchful eyes. Grasses, brittle and dry, whisper secrets to the wind, of ancient seas, of volcanic birth, of the patient shaping of time. No chocolate sweet, but a bitter beauty, a landscape of contradictions, a silent testament, to the earth's quiet, enduring power. ©bfa040325