This is the literary weblog of Jeffrey W. Hull, M.D., a pediatrician. It is intended mainly as a place to maintain a collection of poetry created for the enjoyment of a few friends and as an archive for my family. All material is protected by US copyright.

Jeffrey Hull

Friday, December 30, 2005


I saw you in my heart, my son,
   Before your eyes were born;
I knew the path your feet would run
   Before your shoes were worn.

Before the earth was made of stone,
   Before the clouds were white;
Before the western wind had blown–
   I dreamt of you by night.

Anterior to every star,
   To water, wind and flame–
The sky foretold the man you are
   And whispered you a name.

© 2005 Jeffrey Hull

Friday, December 23, 2005


Let's go sailing, truest love,
   And sail the bluest sea;
   Wind will be my love for thee
   And wave, your love for me.

Let's go soaring, truest love,
   Where sultry breezes blow,
   Sailing over clouds below
   To lands just lovers know.

Let's go dancing, truest love,
   To music heard afar,
   Twirling o'er the swell and star
   With heaven's door ajar.

And homeward then, my truest love,
   To dream by lovers' light;
   Weave me in your heart tonight–
   Thou art my soul's delight.

© 2005 Jeffrey Hull

Friday, December 16, 2005


A chipmunk cuts my path, and scurries to fulfill
His winter quotas, nervous flag erect,
A cheeky rush before the coming chill;

With frantic industry, yet circumspect
He scurries through the busy underbrush
Obsessed with one more morsel to collect–

As I, absorbed in schemes and sums, just rush
Along the trail and blindly through my years;
Who has the time to stop and hear the hush?

© 2005 Jeffrey Hull

Friday, December 09, 2005


The quiet pond is diamond strewn
   Like dew on midnight grass;
The breathing image of the moon
   Swims deep beneath the glass.

And high the clouds like lacy shawls
   Wrap cold celestial lights
While soundless down the moonglow falls
   In torrents from the heights.

A single pirouetting leaf
   Rides rising autumn airs,
Her lovely dance as bright as brief,
   A-tripping down the stairs.

And then the gaily twirling sprite,
   A child let out of school,
As soft as breath at last can light
   Upon the silver pool.

© 2005 Jeffrey Hull

Friday, December 02, 2005


At dusk, the gutter xylophone
Brings solace when one lies alone
With tink-tink-tink on twilight eaves,
The quiet tune when someone leaves.

By night the muffled shingle drums
Just patter on 'til daylight comes
Their soft percussive lullaby
That plays when someone says goodbye.

At dawn the drummer riffs some blues
Then packs it in, and kelly hues
Are more intense with final drops
And then at last the drumming stops.

The audience long lies awake
And wonders yet what small mistake
Or thoughtless word could so offend–
Then sleeps to let the sun ascend.

© 2005 Jeffrey Hull
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