We Need to Talk About Potato Hill

by Paul L. Goodchild

Sledding

The speed, the thrill 

It may be the most exhilaration allowed a child

Trudging up the hill

Renders delight somehow earned

Each run

All too brief, as a winter’s day

Tales of broken bones titillate and excite

Making it more than play

Manifests life in fullness

As a parent, I watch a double toboggan

Piled high with teenagers barrel towards 

My child, who isn’t looking up the hill

Which was the one thing I had insisted on

I run down towards the inevitable disaster

Screaming impotently my dire warnings

Time slows, but can not prevent the crash

I arrive at the scene in a full-on panic

They’re all laughing

They’re all okay

Scary stuff, but I guess that’s half the fun