On Dead Sled Hill

On Dead Sled Hill
I sit stone still,
Smelling the thrill
When I choose Go!
I’m fit to ride
This mountain slide
Without a guide
To howls below.
I don’t need wheels!
My dream’s so real,
I’ll never feel
The cold winds blow.
I’m not too shy,
Not scared to die.
I’m set to fly!
I just need snow. 

© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

9 replies
  1. david elzey says:

    for us new englanders who have been snow-free this winter reading your poem made me realize what’s been missing: kids and the excitement of sledding. it just hasn’t happened, and all the stores with their unsold sleds and skimmers…

    rhupunt’s new to me as well! new thoughts and a new word, nicely done.

Comments are closed.