Poetry Week | Forever Searching by Alison McCrosson

Forever Searching

by Alison McCrossan


On these hills everything is backward –

the clouds sink to the grass,

pock-marked by hooves passing through, 

my feet turn and twist, but I don’t care

for at last, I have touched this summit.


This is where my dreams were placed; 

I would gaze at these slopes, their curve 

against the sky, and roll my ambitions 

to the other side, the unknown, where 

after all, anything is possible.


Far below, a landscape of streets 

I know, housing estates and home, 

all colours fade to blue to grey, 

even the greens, even the red bricks.

I’m standing on my dreamscape, 

topsy-turvy, so now I turn 


and look the other way:


a rolling terrain of fields and woods,

melodies and cries of birds; a distant low,

the waft of grass and rain, soft, evocative:

plant and ozone; the scene lifts and falls, 

and finally blends into dipping showers, 






surely the slopes sweep against the sky.

Please check our submissions page for guidelines on submitting. To read previous Poems of the Week check out our Poetry Archive.

Cover photo by Daniel Angele on Unsplash

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