Slice of Life/SmallPoems Day 24 (spring sledding)

(I am participating in the March Slice of Life challenge via the Two Writing Teachers site.  Slice of Life is the idea of noticing the small moments. I have been a participant for many years and each year, I wonder if I will have the energy to write every day. This year, I am going to try to coincide it with my daily poetry writing, and intend to compose small poems on small moments. We’ll see how it goes …)

Day Twenty Four

Spring sledding seems wrong,
don’t it? Won’t it wait until next
winter? Fingers frozen in gloves,
the sled, ahead, rushes the hill
with riders; beside her, the boy shouts
out the call, all of childhood forgetfulness:

Note: We got hit by a decent winter storm yesterday — a few inches of heavy snow and then sleet and freezing rain. My wife and I joked: no school tomorrow! We laughed. Gallows Humor for the times we’re in. Walking the dog during the snow fall, I came upon this scene of two young siblings (kindergarten age), riding their tube sled down the hill (really, a slant) of their front yard, yelling with such joy and abandon that their voices rang out in the quiet neighborhood. As if everything was normal. As if.

Peace (yelling it),

  1. Your internal rhymes are wonderful and the line breaks, too. Your poem and note really resonated with me, today. Oh, to lean into a sled, and race down a hill yelling “yahoo!” lost in the sweet childhood appreciation of an unexpected snowfall. As if…Thank you for this!

  2. I love this poem and the snow was so unexpected yesterday! Kids always find a way to find the joy. I am glad you walked upon their scene.

  3. Wishing everything was normal, Kevin. Thanks for the bit of fun this morning. No snow and yet there is a bit of sun to make up for all the gray days.

  4. Went sledding with the girls today, since it was um . . . a snow day. Love this line: “… all of childhood forgetfulness.” Thanks for the poem 🙂

  5. This brought warmth to my heart, the image of children playing outside, reveling in the sheer joy of abandon. Your world seems so apart from mine, where we hit a record high of 92 today. Odd times, in the skies and in our eyes (and nose, and mouth, and unwashed hands…).

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