Caleb Gibson's Poetry Flyer

The Sled on the Hill


The Sled on the Hill


The hillside glistened as the light touched the newfangled snow

I gazed up, at the interminable mountain and stepped my foot forward

A frosty zephyr blew, giving my nose a shiver

I clutched my sled in hand and trekked up the passageway

Step after step, I reached the peak

Looking back at my footsteps, I saw how far I had traveled

I positioned my sled at the highest point

And looked down at what I was about to conquer

I pushed off and held tight

The fresh powder shot up into my face

And the ice cold sensation running across my cheeks

My grip on the rope became weak

Then I let go

I tumbled down the hill, the only thing I saw, white

I came to a halt

Dusted off the snow off my face

And turned around, looking back at the hillside, ready for more


Track

Training

Running

Athletic

Continuous

Keeping up

Soccer

Soccer is my life

I wish it could be my wife

Soccer is my life

Stopping By Woods on a Snowing Evening


Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

-Robert Frost