Member Rara Avis
Lumpy oatmeal makes me crazy!
Night, bright with full moon
is shining, enticing the children from beds
to pull on mittens, coats, hats
and scarves; layering up for the cold
winter bright as day light night.
Pulling sleds, runners rusted red,
wood slats worn and rope handles frayed,
out to the day-time road, night-time
sledding hill. Sweet laughter rings clear.
Voices bounce, excited, as bodies
pile on on another, draping
over the large sled, flanked
by small sleds, guardians, perhaps
scouts, which try to race ahead.
Narrow runners scrape, skrate,
skreet, shake and screech.
Sparks fly, wind buffets and breaks,
slices, pushes torpedoing, racing sleds
faster, faster to side-swipe snow banks,
careen and skitter. Eyes peer
from under hats falling low
over frosty brows, terror builds
to crescendos of delightful release,
shredding the night –
moon shining bright as day, solitude
broken by excited laughter.
The chorus of pure-pitched voices
shatter the silence of night into dawn.
[This message has been edited by Alison (01-01-2010 02:07 AM).]