When it used to snow wild and bottomless
dad would take us sledging on the hills behind our house,
we’d ride the sleeping-slopes of
/ round-back / giants,
flushed with fever-thrill and
when he capsized
we / lurched /
collided with a crunch.
One year we built an igloo,
tap, slap, stacked enormous blocks of ice,
crouched inside puffing on praying hands.
We’d sit by the fire, let it warm us to red,
wet things drip, drip,
dripping,
munch hot buttered toast like it was cake.
Sarah Raybould is a poet from the Peak District. She has written and performed a commission for English Touring Opera, has various recent publications and was featured in the National Poetry Library showcase in November. She can be found on Instagram @raybould_sarah , X @raybould_drs and Bluesky @sarahraybould.bsky.social