A poem pondering the hills outside the window at my friends’ condo in Penang, Malaysia while recovering from surgery in August 2022.
the hills rise
each one leaning
on the shoulder of the next
to peek gently through the window
of my sick room
so close
so far
they give intrigue to the skyline
beauty to my bed-bound day
hope to my heart
though they know me not
nor I them
for in truth I see not the hills
but their rolling green garment
except in a few places
where their joints show through
the trees tell a story
a tight broccoli canopy
the glorious crown of a healthy root
in rich soil
well-watered
drinking it all in
what about you
oh hills
my gentle window friends
what story do you tell?
how long have you stood there and reached for the sky?
what treasures do you guard
and secrets have you kept
through ages unknown?
do you remember the touch of your Maker?
what groanings have you suffered
as you await the day of the great Revealing
when the well-rooted will receive their crown?