Sledding

Sledding

Climbing up old Prospect hill,
How high is enough for a winter thrill?
In bootsteps others made before,
With a sled I bought at the local thrift store

Some cardboard boxes left about,
Which poor kids used for sleds, no doubt,
They’ve packed the new snow very well,
The better to run down the hill

Here are the rusty streaks from yesterday,
From where I first launched down the way,
Now cleaned and waxed its runners will
No longer leave marks parallel

I grasp my sled in either hand,
And set it down while behind I stand,
Then pushing off I lay on top
On a downhill rushing belly-wop

Quick steering ‘round moguls
  and skitching on ice,
Speeding face first from the high hilltop,
I pray I still have all of my teeth
When I come to a stop beneath

Where those kids have made a large ice bump
Which they thought would make a fun jump,
  But Oof!
It sends me soaring high in the air,
  I’m flying off my sled!
And land butt first on the hard polished ice,
  But I don’t care

Life’s too short to linger in pain,
  I’m going down that hill -
    Again!