A line of hills
Then a line of hills where the grass ends
And heat travels through trees
Into a happiness
Akin to the great happiness of imaginary children
Whitens the sky
How wonderful and final
My life becomes
The grit of the deathbed earth grows soft
A flight of swifts
Lifts an agate meadow to the sky
Kittenish alpine blown-apart dandelion
I have caught sight of my true friend
Rounding the hillside in his cloak of rain
by Donald Revell
published in the Columbia Poetry Review
republished by Verse Daily®
Robin Reagler 