Kitoba Dot Com

we found the hill....

It's a pleasure for me to host these poems by Ellie Hastings, also known as "inspiration", one of my favorite poets.

© 2004 Ellie Hastings. All Rights Reserved. Reprinted by permission.



We found the hill, the sepia stones,
hard edges still damp with the ache of winter.
Gold-rimmed afternoon, almost too late for starting out
with our packs resurrected from disuse, musty
as old manuscripts. We peeled away the layers
of our clothing as they grew damp, and my lips
sucked icy water from the bottle you held.
I tasted dust on your fingertips, rough
as bark, gripping the rocks that bruised us.
The mystery of altitude, the changing weather
as we climbed. Snow dripped from the newborn leaves
and glistened on our bodies like sweat.
The sky fled upwards.
How I touched you, again and again.

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