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On The Hill



Emily, 11

The soft breeze laps at my face
leaving my skin cold.
I can hear the crisp leaves rustling in the wind.
A fiery red blaze emerges from over the hills
Bleached white clouds wisp
across the carolina blue sky.
I feel calm and peaceful.
My golden hair floats out behind me
and covers my face, blinding me.
As I stand there a woodpigeon drifted
from a decayed elm tree to my left
And a Tui sings in an old willow to my right
My stomach rumbles and I feel famished.
I could really go for some steaming hot soup.

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