SWINGING FROM THE BLACK WALNUT TREE
To and fro through the breath of summer
Alone in my thoughts
Wind kissing my hair
Back and forth
The rhythm defined
By legs out-stretched
Legs drawn under
Higher, higher
Swinging toward heaven
Singing my heart’s expression
And feeling fine.
© 2016 Mary York. All rights reserved.
Ann Rider has challenged us to write poems about places of refuge and solace this month. Click HERE for more details.
Post your poem on our November 2016 padlet. All contributions will be included in a wrap-up celebration on Friday, November 25th, and one lucky participant will win a copy of BEFORE MORNING by Joyce Sidman, illustrated by Beth Krommes, courtesy of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Books for Young Readers.
I'm feeling the breeze and the exhilaration of touching the sky. Thanks for bringing back great memories, Mary!
ReplyDeleteI recently spent time with the granddaughters at a nearby park, and their favorite time is swinging as high as possible, making memories as you wrote, Mary, "wind kissing 'their' hair". I love your poem.
ReplyDeleteOh yes, That's a good one. A great place to make all other thoughts disappear.
ReplyDeleteThis makes me want to grab my hat and go to the park. What a sweet poem.
ReplyDeletereminds me of the tier swing my dad put in the locusts tree for me when I was little wonderful memories I love how swinging fell like flying lovely poem. (Michelle you can leave me ot of the drawing I have this book already)
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