Hillside Illusion

By Andrew R. Duckworth

I’m brought to the hillside
Of truth and illusion
Where the view is vast.
One might be fool enough
To think it perfect-
The few drifting clouds,
The sound of a gentle breeze
Playing about the field,
The carved out cliff
No human hand can replicate,
The openness.
But I’m no fool.
I know what the coyotes
Do in the dark.