You're losing you, are you gone.

[nibbed]

Hi, Rorf. I thought about a few things, mostly about tobogganing. I remembered tobogganing with my dad when I was little. It was very thrilling. We had one of those four person seaters with a thin red cushion covered in plastic. He would wax and buff the bottom of the toboggan to make it extra smooth and slippery, then take us to a place called, "Dead Man's Hill", in a park outside of Dearborn where my brothers, in Summer, would dare to descend on bicycles (holding their feet up in the air). This poem reminded me of that and a recording I saw recently of some folks speeding down a toboggan run through a forest in Indiana traveling over 40 mph! It looked like fun. I thought I might like to try it, but would likely bail out at the last second! Then I thought, "isn't that what living is, having thrills and taking chances?" Then I saw a video of a friend sledding and thought that might be fun, too. It was thrilling just watching the video! I think the poem was trying to say something about taking chances, but is saying more than it really needs to, or with too many words. Perhaps it could have been shortened to just this:



Wild & Risky

It's not an end,
forests will keep making oxygen;
the sunlight and seas, rain's water.

Live, Alive.


I apologize for the stranger than life format. I was having difficulty posting it in the form I intended. I think it's just me. It was getting all wonky on me. Have a blessed day.
-nibbed