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.
