Memories of a snowy night
It started last night, gently falling, large flakes.
I was back again almost instantly.
All the faces, my brothers, friends and neighbors.
Everyone is bundled, wearing half the clothes they own.
The speed and thrill going down the hill and
the long, cold trudge climbing back up again.
The warmth of the bonfire once you finally reach the top.
Jokes and heckling about the previous run,
then do it all over again, and again….
There are no worries here,
no democrats or republicans.
No one has children or mortgages,
and no one has been to war.
We pile onto large inner tubes from tractor tires,
the more the weight the faster the ride.
Piled high down “Suicide Hill” with reckless abandon,
headed for the frozen creek below.
The bodies of snow warriors are tossed aside,
we are the children of the cold dark night.
Our laughter and screams echoing as a song,
throughout the surrounding hills.
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