I Roll Down the Hill

Grandpa’s hill

it is shorter

than I remember

and I get dizzier

than I remember

but

the feeling

is the same

freedom

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

together

laughing

telling me to roll again

Grandpa pointing with his cane

I get to my feet

stand still for a second

to balance

myself

lightheaded

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

the

Green Mountains

from here

Grandpa’s hill.