Atop my hill, I look about, and see the panoply of life. The slate-gray sky casts everything, in sharp relief.
Just over here, a pair of boys has caught an advantageous wind. Their yellow kite soars heavenward. Their faces flush with obvious pride!
And at the bottom of the hill, some children make great piles of leaves. They run, and jump, and gather in; restoring leaves to former heights. They seem to never want to quit - still going strong, an hour on!
And, half way down my hill, I see a little girl in funeral garb. The white of collar, and of cuffs, make her black dress look blacker, still. She lies upon a fallen tree, with wind-blown leaves strewn all around. A second glance - I see it now! Her makeup says, she's not a child.
But, what a place to lay her down; it can't be comfort that she seeks! My eyes fill up with tears unwept, for sorrows which have put her there. She does not know that I look on, as she lies down on wooded bed. I try to call, but make no sound, as silence swallows up my voice.
Her eyes grow heavy. Now she sleeps. Her bedroom strange, in Autumn glade! How can she sleep? And, yet she does; her breathing, steady - rise and fall. Below, a girl is laughing out! Her little brother tore his pants! He seems to rather like the style. A curt, "Shut up!" is all he says.
She sleeps on, heedless of the noise. How weary, she must truly be! When she awakes, a languid stretch announces, she is all restored. Bark and leaves are brushed away, as she arises from her nap. She sets her sails for life, again. She hugs the children, on her way.
I think that sleep is what I need. It did so much to strengthen her. I smile, and glance up at the stone that stands above my head.
