The Swing

poetry No Comments »

On a play
ground, not grounded
at all, two sisters lean
into the air and swing
higher, higher.

Their children
toggle monkey bars
across the way
falling into soft cedar
before making it to
the other side.

The two sisters
stare off
at the pink sunset~
a subtle warning
that night
will surely come.

One sister whispers
to the other
What do you want to be
when you grow up?

Their children
climb the ladder
to the slide
and let go, laughing
to the end
to begin again.

Back and forth.
Up and down.
Rise and fall.
Quiet pain
of two sisters
on swings
mourning in early evening
their mother’s
death.

July 2004

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