Oddments

In search of story


9 Comments

August 18.21: Coping

I’ve planted my person

on many a seat,

but the best was there

on Summer Street.

Grandma’s porch

with swing for two,

where summer breezes

lazied through,

was where I learned

what sages know:

if I want to be quick

I must first be slow.

Back and forth,

I moved unmoving,

Grandma too,

our own kind of grooving.

Words fell away,

we floated as one;

I can still feel her housedress

all cottony spun.

The cricket sang softly,

far ice cream bells jingled

a summon to vespers

with leaf whispers mingled.

So today a swing sighting

is potently rife

with certainties given

to last all my life.

A Coke for the world

was a once wishful sing,

but I’d write new words

and wish it a swing.

 

Yet more thanks to photographer S.W. Berg

for this wonderful portrait of invitation.

 

 


2 Comments

Connections: October 5.16

SANYO DIGITAL CAMERASqueak!

Over the park

the call of the swing

familiar old tune

ear-splitting.

Squeak!

Little legs

in ecstasy

kick and wiggle

weightlessly.

Squeak!

Those legs are new

pudgy and spry

they can’t yet walk

but they can fly.

Squeak!

Rhythm of childhood

mid-air play

song of light hearts

in meter’d day.

Squeak!

Connections