the hills roll like

the slow breath of earth

holding on to the remnants

of what they once were,

towering thousands of feet

above everything.

the sun hangs above,

slowly settling over

the horizon, spilling

color across the forest

where colors of winter

and spring

stand in contrast

with one another.

the light carries, settling

into valleys and ridges,

leaving shadows and light

drifting like memories

the hills choose not to forget.

for a moment, the

mountains seem to move.

not like they did as they

were forged upward,

but silently, outward, as

light and color paints

each tree, each leaf, patiently,

one day at a time.