Rolling hills,
myriad shades of green.
Drive slowly, windows open . . .
Fresh crisp air,
cloudless blue sky.
Drumlins shaped patiently by glacial ice,
Mother Earth’s gentle curves.
Vibrant wildflowers here . . .
flowering brush there.
Stop. Rest.
Inhale the quiet calm.
Written for Quadrille Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. We are to use the word “drum” or a form of the word, within our exactly 44 word poem. Image from Pixabay.com
lillian the home poet 
I love the feeling of fresh country air as you drive through the country!
LikeLike
I like the patient shaping of the drumlins.
LikeLike
This is peaceful. 🙂
LikeLike
I’m there. Thanks for taking me with you! Love the use of “drumlins”. I hadn’t heard of the word until I came across it in another poem.
LikeLike
This sounds wonderful and quiet.
LikeLike
Very relaxing, Mother Earth’s gentle curves.
LikeLike
Great soundings here – and drumlins – wonderful word – loud then declining.
LikeLike
Thank you for taking me to this peaceful state of being.
LikeLike
Love this! This is such a soothing, gorgeously worded quadrille Lillian! ❤️
LikeLike
I’m living there, too. Heaven.
Extra kudos for noting the myriad greens. Most folks, these days, just driving through, concentrating only on destination, arrival time, etc merely look & smile, say “green”, almost never notice or comment on the complexity of shades.
Great work.
LikeLike
Sounds very nice and peaceful. 😉
LikeLike
What a sense of peace comes from this poem!
LikeLike
Never heard of a drumlin. Lovely, serene place.
LikeLike
This poem has a pleasant tempo. Very nice.
LikeLike
Beautiful! Reminded me of ‘Keeping Quiet’ by Pablo Neruda! Great job! 🙂
LikeLike