Cardboard Hill

Cardboard hill

The legend

The perfection in geography

Just down from our house

Rough wasteland of frogs and foxes

We called Mile’s Rough

There she was

The perfect hill

Perfect height

Perfect steepness

Perfect short grass

Never mown

Just perfectly grown

Super smooth

And wide enough for races

In summer once she dried out

(no one wanted to fall in a bog)

We took our weapon

Saved that cardboard box

From Dad’s cellar

Gran’s new microwave

It didn’t matter

Just not too small is all

And carried them down

To Mile’s Rough

To our perfect hill

Our Cardboard Hill

Morning two, three kids

By lunch twelve, fifteen kids

Simple really

Climb to the top

Sit on your cardboard

Like a sled on snow

Cling to the edges

Right at the top

Then off you go


So fast almost vertical

Eyes watering

Grass staining

As you tumble at the end

Wow. Who won?

Good fun

In winter we sled but

It was always cardboard hill

Faster harder tougher

No snow to break your fall

Sometimes little kids would need

Walking home from too much fun

Now it’s a site of scientific interest

You should have seen us play.


© Jennifer Winterburn



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