Tire Swing

I hung a tire swing from the bough of our sally tree

some days later came the sun bringing with it

excited footsteps

the open and slam of the back door

giddy shrieks and back and forth creaks


looking out the kitchen window I saw

the shade sent running by her smile

our garden grateful for the falling honey


someday I will take her to New York

to see old men play chess outdoors

sheltered from determined yellow

by maternal oaks

they will not marvel at her as I do

having raised their own daughters

when they stood taller


these days trickle on

guests passing through

leaving us eventually

no matter how warmly

we receive them


I feel different

I feel the same

though, just like the puddles

and the lake

the mirror surely lies


we fold up our unsaid words

put them in our pockets

and keep them safe

and unforgotten


the time of nursery rhymes is gone

long live these tire swing days



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