My Winter
There is no greater perfection than being young in Winter
to watch the snow quietly fall, to build upon itself
Like the days when I was young and Winter came
From the dark gray clouds, white flat ornaments fell
We would recklessly run
trying to catch them on our warm tongues, stumbling
falling in slow motion into the snow, laughing
doing what boys do
Our truest joy was riding sleds
There was a hill with a winding path,
from top to bottom
After Christmas, every boy would drag their family's tree
to the hilltop and toss it onto a bonfire
that sometimes got out of control
doing what boys do, laughing
We would race our sleds, some old, some new
and would try to stay on the narrow path
winding down the hill, between tall naked trees
doing what boys do
It would hurt if you hit one
and if new you didn't want to drag it home...to dad
At the bottom, the path forked
the path to the left would dip and rise
lifting you on to a frozen road
where you sled would glide for hundreds of yards
If you were brave you would take the fork to the right
where you had a steep drop that increased your speed
taking you to a ledge eight feet above a creek
Sometimes it was frozen, sometimes not
and if you couldn't stop your sled
you would fly over into the creek
if that happened all the boys would rush down
peer over the cliff and if we saw signs of life
we would laugh
doing what boys do
When Winter came and the snow fell
When we were young and wanted to laugh
doing what boys do...playing
11/17/17
contest My Winter
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