Hill, a poem

Hill

Paradise is found beyond that hill.
I climbed it once, to look upon the golden

and secret distance of horizons I’d
not dare. It lies there, that land, in the mists

of every morning, in my stars of night.
A glimpse I had, no more, before descending

again to worlds known, those journeys never
begun. Climb if you will; climb, and cross over.

Stephen Brooke ©2026