Winter Sledding/Tamara Hillman










      I feel the chill of it on my cheeks, and the heat on my backside standing close to the old tire we set afire for warmth.

      In my mind's eye, I see crystals frozen to tree limbs and smell the freshness of clean, white snow.

      I hear cars traveling the lower road, and the echo of voices rising from the valley floor—no doubt, moms calling their children home to steaming cups of hot chocolate before returning to the hill.

      Oh, the feeling of serenity and innocents, I glean from those wonderful memories of a carefree childhood in winter.

      What great fun—sleigh riding off Cemetery Hill!


            Tamara Hillman         ©2009

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WRITE TO TAMARA: westernpoetess@yahoo.com

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