Meditation in the Hill Country By Byron López Ellington

Meditation in the Hill Country

On greenest grass I sat that day of spring
And peered upon the purple-hued vervains
And oaks alive with vibrant leaves of green
As winds of cold ‘neath cloudy skies remained:
A view around me I have viewed before
With love eternal for this stolen land;
On greenest grass I sat to breathe the lore,
I sat to feel the wind upon my hand,
To close my eyes and understand my death,
To meditate on nothing but the air—
Be mindful of the existential breath—
Though knowing not how futures bold may fare.
And yet, sun shines on ev’ry cloud above,
And moon does glow on ev’ry star of love.

Byron López Ellington ( is a seventeen-year-old Mestizo writer from the central Texas hill country. He has previously been published in Grand Little Things and is published or forthcoming in Juven, Journal of Erato, Warning Lines, Hyacinthus Mag, and Moonchild Magazine, among others. He is the founder and editor of the radical literary magazine Rulerless (, and can be found on Twitter @byronymous.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s