Shortcut Through the Woods
Growing up in Preston, seems like we kids
never lacked for excitement or something to do
A tree house became a fortress, a fern became a spear
Surrounded by woods, a trail became a freeway
The weatherman said there was a chance of snow,
so I’d spend hours gazing up at the streetlight,
seeing if his prediction came true, and being depressed
when promised snow failed to begin to fall
Sleeping outside during the summer; listening to the rare car
drive past, on their way to god-knows-where
Hour upon hour shooting hoops behind our house,
At the community tennis courts; pretending that a little kid
could become the first 10 year old to make the pros
Running to see when the siren blew,
watching as our dads raced to the station
Running all over town; every neighbor knowing where you were
Pretending I was a pro quarterback downstairs in the hall
My cousin Cristy and I, writing and performing a play there
on the spot; and our poor moms made up our audience.
duly clapping and encouraging us; even though
I’m sure the plays made little to no sense,
but boy, did we have fun!
Bicycle jumping on the Church Hill in the summer;
Sledding in the winter; but snow happened all-too rarely
Death-defying high-speed bike rides on Demon’s (more commonly
called Cemetery Hill), to see if you could break the sound barrier,
or at least so it seemed to us kids!
Answering a call from your friend
Taking the freeway shortcut though the woods!
© Copyright 2016 Mike Stevens. All rights reserved.
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