Hills are people
Born by pushing
Mostly sleeping.

Stand upright, sometimes slouching
Go around in crowds
Make a lot of noise.

Sit around all day
In the rain & sun
Looking at the sky.

Hills don’t know
That they are hills
You can’t tell what they are thinking
Just by looking.

Skin deep beauty
Terrors within
Hills have secret lives.

Hills come in all colours, shapes, sizes & flavours.

Sometimes hills push up against one another & make little hills.

Unfortunately hills can’t go on holiday
But they must be good at meditation;
As far as I know, they don’t entertain wild desires
Or form obsessive attachments,
But I imagine that even hills probably have their delusions.

Fact of the matter is
Hills grow up, have their time
Die, get buried.

Barry Patterson, June 2005