119. April 29th
The hillside is bleak and bare,
Littered with dry leaves and caked in earth.
Old and dishevelled, it looks as it feels,
It lies there waiting for new life.
Soon the bluebells can be seen,
And new leaves on the trees.
Spring has come; new life has come.
The hillside has been made new.
But still it is not perfect yet,
Still it suffers hardships everyday.
But now it has hope that one day,
All will be fine; all will be great.