Hill Hunger

Hill Hunger
I think that something in the hill child dies
when he is taken to the level lands;
A man bred by the ocean understands,
and he will tell you that his sick heart sighs
For hiss of surf: and all his being cries
for roar of waves and spray upon his hands.
Ever beneath his weary feet the sands,
ever a sail before his searching eyes.
And so, I think the hill child always sees
that broken line inked in against the skies,
Where saffron sunset drops to meet the trees
upon the hilltop and the nighthawk flies,
And when his mind cannot recapture these
I think that something in the hill child dies.
— Lillian Mayfield Roberts