Journeying

Round and round the hill we go,
A high wall of jugged rocks.
Round and round the hill we go,
A valley of green and brown and red
Trees and fields and rooftops and
Murram lines on terraces.
Mud houses and maize
Some cows and bananas.
Up the hill, down the hill
The sky is far
And now it’s near
The road curves
The driver manoeuvres
In and out
The trees stalk us with leafy eyes,
The clouds blanket us with nimbus and white
The sun is up but not warm
The chill bites through my face
My lips are chapped from the cold.

Round and round the hill we go.