© Anita Reed

The green, treed hills doze in the sun
Dreaming of time since their birth.
When lines of black people through valleys would tread
In softness of leaves on the earth.

The green, green hills half awake in the day
Watching the scurrying ants.
The people who whiz around in their cars
Till the hills return to their trance.

The black,black hills, long humps in the dark
Opaque against translucent sky.
Protectors, they watch, patient guards from the past,
Brooding while stars crawl by.

The black,black hills breathe in the night,
They are life from aeon’s ago –
The watching presence of the long, dark hills ,
Who guard, who wait, who know.

The black,black hills, ancient still
Have seen all men’s loves hates and fears.
For a million years they saw all and endured.
They can wait for another million years.