Atop The Hill

20 line poem written by 17-18 year old

Bounding through a moon lit night,

Leaping on, on flying hooves,

A hart ran in fear filled flight

Fleeing from four stalking wolves.

Through raking bush, through clinging vine,

The savage wolves follow the scented trail,

Through shallow streams, past scraggly pines

The gallant hart leaps on with bobbing tail.

Since dawn, the wolves have chased the stag,

With a sure and tireless lope,

And now the hart begins to lag,

In a space of dying hope.

The hart now stops upon a knoll,

And turns about with lowered tines and raking paws

To face the wolves and take his toll

As they approach with throated growls and hanging jaws.

With snarling growls and yipping cries,

The wolves rush upward sure to kill,

And standing staunch with somber eyes

The hart knowingly death awaits atop the hill. 

Raymond Lee Collins, 1970

Belleville Illinois

copyright reserved by the publisher

Carol A Wells