Tuesday, August 12, 2008

swing rhythm in oak

A friend told of a memory and her love of pastime in swing. I put the pictures it evoked into verse . . .

rings the sitter for the boys
walks down the street to the old church
white steeple, steep steps and trees
there's an ancient oak with arms
and a rope-slung seat
that calls her
the child
and dreamer
of Pegasian adventure
beyond the shade and stars

an hour sails past then two
the child six now grown
has flown years
by swing
always to ride
by the rhythm of life
till troubles of day
turn to waves
in the light
and sky

1 comment:

  1. I absolutely love it! I can just imagine it all...I see myself swinging and looking up at the big blue sky and white puffy clouds..as all my troubles fade away...wheee!