The Running Hill
A poem, free form
Standing at the top
looking out,
you can see so far.
But the hill is steep.
You take one step
then carefully another.
You intend to go slow
but the hill is steep.
​
As you continue
the steps must come faster
and you must step lightly
or you will fall.
And then you are running,
the bottom of the hill
coming closer and closer.
You must move quickly
or you will fall.
​
It's exhilarating and frightening,
air full of laughing and screaming
as you rush down and
the bottom rushes up.
Whether you reach the bottom
running or you somersault
out of control,
as you rush down
the bottom rushes up.
​
Would that it could
have taken longer;
would you take the same steps?
Follow the same path?
As you reach the bottom of the hill
whether on your own steam
or caught in your own momentum
flying loose on the wind,
would it be worth it
to do it again?

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