The Hills

Lament for the loss of the green hills of home.

There are hills in this country,
     hills that hid Mexican soldiers

 

 

barred and bore the conflict
     of invaders against invaders

 

 

each pathologically absorbed
     in the illusion of their volition.

 

 

These hills have seen the extermination
      of the Coyotes, the Bobcats,

 

 

the only remnants in wilderness preserves
      and High School mascots.

 

 

These hills are being hidden under
     too many homes and too many roads.

 

 

Their latent beauty, it seems, is a story
     untold by these pearly soccer moms

 

 

on their brightly colored cell phones.
     The hills are quite subtly subdued

 

 

by a patchwork expansion of metropolitan
     practices and consumer foods.

 

 

I drive all through these hills, I do,
     though I wish I could walk and feel the dew.