Rhythms Remain and Are Broken
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
These hills in Scotland are like movements of
A symphony. They rise and form, and rise
And form–and rise like lovers form their love.
Love tries to reach these hilltop Scottish skies,
Their blue, or white, or gray of Scottish clouds
And dome of Scottish heaven. Then of course
The hills and sky and movements dress in shrouds.
All things, the loves, the music, hills of gorse,
The changing skies put on the tints of death.
Each movement dies. Each sky evolves away.
The hills are dying, lento. Slow hill breath
Resolves their rock beneath their mist and spray.
The hillsides go. The movements go. Lovers
Go. Love goes. Scots’ melancholy hovers.
~ Phillip Whidden
by phillipw | Mar 14, 2025 | MU, SA, SC |