Hills of Raywick

Looking back, past the glimpse of forgotten corn

and wheat fields now abandoned by neglect; O thine

eyes shined so brightly in that gilded passage of yield, 

when willows and bramble abided and conceded to

the cold winds, where frost framed the vestige of standing 

time and snatched the gusting breath away from the

levity of life, there in the nook and cut of Kentucky,

atop eminent steeping and twisting knobs, the pristine breastbone 

of splendor, between the eternal river bend and the hollowness

of epochs stood the glorious town of Raywick, my forever home.