I remember when I was six,
the air was cold and smelt like cotton.
I could hardly move I was so bundled up
but we were going sledding on the hill
I felt like queen on that hill.
Overseer of the neighborhood.
I said it was an old Indian burial mound
but really the only thing buried in that hilltop was chickens.
From the peak, I could count ALL three of our brown cows.
It was mine to the taking, that hill.
I owned it with my sleds, wagons, and kites...
I was scared.
Scared to sled down the one steep side into the pasture's fence.
But I got pressured to go there- THERE- the forbidden side
It was exhilarating and terrifying.
I could not feel the bitter wind kiss my face.
I could not feel the jostle of frozen lumps beneath my sled.
I could feel only speed.
Then a jolt of pain and warmth spread over my face.
Through squints the whiteness contained garnet red.
I could hear muffled yells...It sounded like my name
I could hardly move I was so bundled up.
The air was cold and smelt like cotton,
I remember when I was six.