Wednesday, April 24, 2013

                                 I Roll Down the Hill

Grandpa’s hill

it is shorter
than I remember

and I get dizzier
than I remember


the feeling
is the same

mixed with damp grass
and dirt

good dirt

the kind that smells
of earthworms

I roll down the hill

all the way
to Joe Consoli’s house

I lay at the bottom
and look up
at my Grandpa’s house

and there they are
Grandpa and Joe Consoli
sitting on the porch
telling me to roll again
Grandpa pointing with his cane

I get to my feet
stand still for a second
to balance


I walk back up
to the
wraparound porch

and hold onto
the railing
where Grandpa’s chair
should be

the sky is so blue
the shadows long
a robin sings solo

I didn’t know
one could see
Green Mountains
from here
Grandpa’s hill.

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