Over the Hill.(Poem)

 
OVER THE HILL 
 
   Her dough-cold hand 
   in mine. Her eyes, 
   filled with the framed sky, 
   are bottomless. A glass 
 
   of water shakes the room. 
   And then she slowly turns 
   the pages of an album 
   back to her cottage home 
 
   in Switzerland. Fresh snow 
   sleeps on the thatch 
   above a window 
   as she peers into a forest 
 
   of rich Christmas pine, 
   and through the blue air, 
   beyond the final hill, 
   at the promise of Australia. 
 
   But first there is the time for being young, 
   for swishing through a ...