The Lush Hill

The lush hill towered over the quite town mostly built with big rock; it had three tall church towers with different distinguished styles: Gothic, Renaissance, and Baroque... wondrous was every sunrise! Oh, their loud bronze bells could be heard ringing through the vast, sun-washed and peaceful valley sorrounded by mountains that reached a sky so dazzling... then the clock-tower stroke each hour so precisely! The summer's aroma was kind of strong and irritated the eyes, and it almost got me drunken as aged wine does; and I ran to the lush hill thinking of finding a treasure in a cave that the invading Normans might have hidden in there! But to my surprise, only frescos of martyrs were discovered; all the while, that treasure was in front of me: Nature opening up with its magnificent beauty! It took observation and reflection for the rare gifts it rendered. Whenever I ran to the lush hill, either morning or afternoon, I was astonished by the humble faces of saints showing no demise for their persecution and carnage by beast such as ferocious lions... as those pious faces looked to Christ for comfort in their doom! Their image made me much stronger and believer in the Shepherd whose sheep never was lost among grunting wolves waiting aside; and every mystery revealed, it grew to teach me not to be afraid... when profound silence arrived bringing delights to an innocent child. Oh, lush hill...keep my image of young boy intact even after I die; let it come alive when sheer curiousity arises and tantalizes... to make me climb that lush hill again for the heart to fantasize, and 'though my health may not be as vibrant as then, I must try!