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An activity no longer available to me. |
| BEHIND THE HOUSE, SLIDING Behind the house, sliding-- Where wind and land make smooth a rut for rungs, a print for boot, a place to form a tire groove-- A hill to push a sled Where scarf flies out behind as down we go a wintry wind where white and speed can make you blind-- Behind the house, sliding-- Where dusk slips down and paints the land a deep blue shade with daedal hand up to the distant peach-red band where the setting sun sets fire to the far backdrop of trees that stand in silhouette and freeze but will never burn against the bise. Behind the house, sliding-- With every tear and memory of things that were, but cannot be for time has changed the backyard lee to otherlands with other yards where hills are never snow-providing nor meant to send a sled to riding behind the house, sliding. |