Feet in the sky,
Breeze through my hair.
Float, soar, fly,
Swing away care.
I promised myself I could go swinging today. When I went for a brisk walk at 5:30 this morning, I stopped by the condo playground. There were puddles beneath the swings from recent rain, and it was dark, but I attempted to swing anyway. The creaking and groaning made me wonder if the plastic playground would withstand my adult weight. Mental images of angry children storming my condo made me decide to leave that swing set alone.
Later in the afternoon, still itching to play, I drove to a nearby park where they have a beautiful, solidly built, swing set.
Freedom!
I tried to capture the feelings in rhyme (see above).
Now I find myself longing to play on the 21 musical swings in Montreal. Swing and make music...how soothing to the soul.
Oh, how I like to go up in a swing,
ReplyDeleteUp in the air so blue...
I think it's the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do.
And Trudy too.
I think I like your poem even better than this childhood favorite.
Still...
Up in the Air and over the wall
Till I can see so wide
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside.
(R L Stevenson) I'm not sure I have the words quite right, or all of them for that matter.
Sadly my tummy doesn't like the swings much these days. I get a little queasy. I sure loved to swing as a child though.