Snowballing

The hill I climbed though tough and slow, Had glistened in the morning snow. When at the top, I scooped the ground, As in my hands, I rolled it round. Then as I stood upon the ledge, I placed the ball at mountain’s edge. I gave a push with sly intent, And thus began the ball’s descent. Pristine to start and slightly small, The snow amassed upon the ball. With seconds in from widened eyes, It tripled from it’s starting size. And down along the mountain side, It now appeared to be as wide, For end to end was packed with snow, And danger for the town below. Of boundless speed from pleasant roll, This ball of snow had no control. So small and helpless at the top, Had turned a ball that couldn’t stop.