Downhill
  running,

exciting and
quite funny was
this childhood game
of mine, racing quickly
like the wind,   leap  up   bolders
at a sprint, soaring off and sailing,
dropping with the slope til we are met,
as i try to keep my balance, tilted with my
speed, it's slant, but flailing, rolling, til i
spring back up and on'til hill is thru and coasting to a stop
     where i may catch our breadth, and face back to the top,
                           beaming, for another ramp and romp.
Then there was the fall!
when  the leaves  had,
and covered the slope
        in slipperiness;
and to the running, soaring,
add that sliding, skiing feeling,
whisking down the slope, now greased,
where i was whirring like the breeze, and    plopping!
                                 in the piles like clouds,
                             composting leaves' last dreams,
                            from  summer  on  towards spring.
Oh! And there were the trees
like   poles    to swing
  my  steering,   weaving
round     their    legs
   and   for low    limbs to ... dive for,
  grasp, and  sway  up  high    and off and
                                       down again.
(What a wonder not to die?
 from  fun  like  this!)