This is the story of Lindsay Nedd,
Whose favorite thing to do was sled.
Every day when it would snow,
She’d grab her coat and off she’d go;
She’d snatch her sled and run kill-dill
To be the first one at the hill,
Then pull her hat over her ears
And tie her scarf real tight,
And brace herself upon her sled,
Preparing for her flight.
Then leaning forward, off she’d go;
She’d whiz past all the trees,
And finally slow down to a stop,
Her face red from the breeze.
She’d grab her sled and climb until
She reached the top once more;
And every time that she’d go down
Was more fun than before.
She’d sled long after other kids
Had gone home wet and cold;
It seemed to her that soaring down
The hill never got old.
And so she’d play until the sun
Had sunk from overhead;
Then she’d race home and brush her teeth
And climb into her bed.
Outside her window snow would fall
Across the street and on her wall;
It kissed the sidewalks and the glass
And piled high upon the grass;
So when she woke, out on the lawn
There’d be fresh snow to sled upon.
~ Barbara Vance