Above the one room farmhouse, with the curling swirls of hickory fueled smoke, the pond is frozen over. There beside the barn built of rocks, cement, and sweat it stares blankly into the lowering winter sky. Morning hoar frost covers barren branches and hedge apple fence posts.

Up early, after broken fast, stomping a treacherous track down the slope from rocky meadowland.

Sliding over the solid pool on bare shoe leather. Hearing subtle creaks of crackling surfaces.

Sledding downhill, under the barbed wire fence.

Little caring for the danger.

Laughter still yet echoes over the hollow, alive in our memories.