Just a Hill

by Carl Houghton

I like this hill—

It isn’t a big hill,

It doesn’t have a

beautiful view

But it’s a quiet hill

And I can come here

and think

About Brother Johnson’s

lesson on repentance;

Or how I’ve been doing

as our quorum’s

first assistant;

Or the way Christ

resisted temptation.

Wind—

It blows past me and

shoots through the

tall grass;

Rain clouds gather,

Mingle and mumble,

A stormy premonition;

But they leave again

And the grass is still dry.

I realize

It’s not so important

what I think about

while I’m here,

As what I do between

visits.

Photography by Brian Williams

Photography by Bobbi Jane Rice