Tire Swing

if I push off

just right

from the tree’s sturdy trunk

if I look past

dangling apples

the Abandoned Bird nest among leafy clusters

I find myself

flying

working the wind like an extra muscle

totally oblivious

of the rope

connecting me to rooted things

only somewhat aware

of birds

winging their way across the heavens

but if I dangle

head and feet

from opposing sides

my donut swaying

me back

and forth through space

the wind

doing its best to spin

my flimsy craft

blurring

the world

and dizzying my senses

grass and sky

dissolve

and I become flight

9 thoughts on “Tire Swing

  1. Beautiful — flying and becoming flight…..is it letting go that makes you the flight? i love the words and imagery….you surprise and delight me – every time. 🙂 Wish you a beautiful day. Shalom — i loved the feather-pillow story. 🙂

    1. Yes, letting go…and I am still puzzling over the words myself. They came to me in two separate flashes, the image of the swing very insistent…you know how it is my sweet friend. Wishing you shalom, blessings and love.

      1. Yes, i totally understand – sometimes i read “my” poems later and wonder who wrote this? They are secret messages from the universe for us…heaven touches us while we are rooted here on earth – through your swing. 🙂

  2. I am spell bound as I read through this place in time – your poem. I understand how it happens – the images just come in a flash and it is just right. I like the word, “Flight.” very much – and I feel it is so personal – so physical – and spiritual, this flight.

    1. I’m sure it has happened to you , too, as you write, Linda…the poem takes over, and the poet stands as witness…love finding you here, dear friend!

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