Sunrise at Balch Hill
Atop this weathered hill,
the clear air lends a chill—
as morning hopes take wing
for what the day may bring.
Night’s vestige, one last yawn,
escapes before the dawn
and vole paws deftly tread
on dry leaves, gold and red.
The east’s a darkened scene,
outlines of evergreen,
then—first spark of sun:
a flash, a breath: it’s done.
Greg Hill is a writer, voice over talent, college English adjunct professor and high school math tutor in West Hartford, Connecticut. He has an MFA from Vermont of College of Fine Arts. His poems have appeared in Past Ten, Atlas and Alice, Cheap Pop and elsewhere. Selected work is curated at www.gregjhill.com.
Wanderlust 