Into Cow Pastures We Sailed (A Jamaican Tale)

Long before the bobsled team ever was

my sister and I

slid down mountain slopes

past yellow beaked sentinels

stalking about

on their spectacularly long legs.

Into cow pastures we sailed

on our flattened cardboard boxes

stopping only when faced

with the asses of cows.

Momentarily happy

we scrambled  to our feet, giggling,

delighted we were wise not to

aim for barbed wire fences

fronting ancestral cemeteries

with their pale Jamaican ghosts

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Some information about the parish of St. Thomas (Jamaica) where this story takes place can be found here:

http://thesourcefarm.com/about/st-thomas-jamaica