swing sets---have this way about them
when you’re up in that momentary air
you can reach up and catch infinity
before sewing it into your pockets.
-----for that split second
gravity has nothing on you.
you are the sole owner of your existence,
the ruler of a realm between sky and ground,
you are the dandelion seeds that float every once in a spring breeze,
the sound of the sigh that comes after stomach aching laughter,
it’s 2 in the morning.
you bite your lip, flinching as the last stair creaks while you sneak out
to drive all the way to the park on the other side of town
because you know that those swings lift you the highest.
in the dark,
the moon beckons you to come closer,
he has a teasing smile tonight
promising you secrets about the stars.
so you pump your legs back and forth
letting the fireflies kiss your toes
as the coolness of a crisp fall air
wraps around you in a familiar comfort.
and when you’re up, up, up
you can almost smell the fresh pot of coffee that your best friend is brewing
because after thirteen years what week is without a 3 AM visit?
I mean swings? They literally, uplift you
---they carry you as you fly
it’s 8 in the morning
right after a run you convinced yourself would be good for you
but the real reward was the tire swing that the neighborhood kids tied to the biggest tree in the cul-de-sac
you soar into the air trying to catch a cloud with your mouth
wondering if it tastes like cotton candy
for one brief moment you pretend that you’ve let go
and you really are soaring
you are a bird without wings
the only feathers you have ever wanted
are the kind that fall out of the pillows you and your sister spar with
the kind that tickle you pink
when you think pink
you think swing
because what better time to walk to the school park
you spent every recess at as a kid and
see the sun melt into colors that you imagine taste like fresh strawberries
as your legs go into the air
you point your toes trying to swirl that raspberry-orange color until
it leaps off the canvas of the sky and inches up your skin
until you resemble the flowers that would grow in your grandmother’s backyard
the ones that you would weave through your hair because it made you feel beautiful
but the best time to swing
is when you can watch the wisps of your breath
compete against falling snowflakes
as you reach to capture the powdery puffs on your tongue
even though your nose is bright red
and the winter cold is biting your ears
you don’t mind because
you love the sound that the crunch of white beneath you makes when you launch up
and meet the freshest air you have ever known
swing sets –with their special way
are a capsule of memory
a place where thought comes floating down with each self- created breeze
where the rush of gravity is really just a momentary time machine
giving you glimpses of the happiness woven into the fabric
of your existence.