By That Old Hill

The morning sky is overcast and gray
By that old hill far north and far away
From this Southern Land even as the bird does fly
Perhaps at least ten thousand miles of sky

Yet in my flights of fancy i do see
The bullfinch on bare branch of old ash tree
His beautiful feathers fluffed out for to keep out the chill
Blowing in the freshening cold wind from the hill

In late February a week from the calendar Spring
Too early for the birds of song to sing
In the farm sheds the cattle bellow for silage or hay
By northern hills from here so far away

The freshening winds across the high fields blow
In weather that seems cold enough to snow
And through wet fields and by many a bare hedgerow
The stream in brown flood waters to the river flow