The Millennial Pedestrian

The Hidden Hill

Long ago before the fog came we could see it:
A low ridge gridded with
The city’s streets, its white
Frame homes, its severe stone churches.

Even after the fog hid the hill
We still remembered.
Not perfectly … we can’t be sure                             
Of every house and church and tree.

But we know the hill is there,
Green now in spring. We could
Walk to it from here, even
In this opaque damp and drizzle.

Up on the hilltop, residents can climb
The bell tower and emerge above the clouds
To see our valley with its stores and schools and
Parking lots smothered by a gauzy scrim.

Other, far-off hilltops can be seen
Serene and green above the limbo land
In which we crouch, our pale eyes fixed
On the hidden hill we still believe in.

We dream of walking through the fog
Until we feel the pavement rise beneath our feet.

This entry was posted on Saturday, May 20th, 2006.
It's part of the New Poems category.
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