On Sunday

by Jocelyn Chin

On Sunday,

I go sledding.

Heaven sends

its noiseless messengers

downwards:

ethereal, jagged,

gentle. I hesitate

in my fine sweater, clean leggings,

boots worn

to church that morning

I look down that steep hill —

It looks back — more frozen

dirt-entrapped leaves

than snow.

Yet I push off,

hitting roots and flying off the slick path

muddy gloves, whipping hair,

swift and fleeting

above cold ice

teeth to the wind,

I find myself laughing as I lie

spread out

on lucid ground

like an angel.

Jocelyn Chin is a sophomore at Duke University studying Public Policy and Philosophy

Photo courtesy of Julia Stewart, UVA ‘20