One night a hill went to sleep under the stars,
and the next morning when the hill got up
with the sun there were a hundred stone houses
leeched to the hill's brown back.

             The hill was too round
to brush the leeches away; too round to
scratch.
All day long the hill sat in the sun and frowned
at the crab sea that nipped at its toes.

That night the same stars came out, and the wind
didn't laugh. The sea made funny noises,
and the gulls clung to the rocks.

             When the sun opened
the door of light the next morning, the leeches
were still there on the slope, and there were
brambles and late blossoms. There were even
a few berries. But the soul of the hill had departed.