Mood Swings

Ropes hang long from the sturdy tree branch 
shading a shiny, seat worn plank,
solid and secure beneath me.

Early morning wet with dew, 

 hot and shiny
  late afternoon noon grows heavy,

   glistening cold from a silver moon.

Chubby hands grasp thick cable roughness of rope 

still smelling of barnyard and old hay.

Skinny arms and legs stretched, 

bare toes tickled by the sandy scrub beneath,

twisting ropes barely give to my little girl weight.

I don’t want to hang still and quiet.

My power tingles and grows from my toes.

A sly grin on my face trickles down to my feet as I push off

Gently at first, feeling a wind on my back.

Coming forward the wind in my face, my grin widens.

I am powerful to change even the air around me,

Seagulls ride high in the sky

I try to reach them with each push of the swing.

Riding higher and higher, I want to leap from the seat,

and join them in the sky

but my body, like my mood, 

would fall like a stone.

Where are my wings?

I let the swing begin to slow; 
  swoosh-swooshing of hot air 

forth and back, 
   to and fro, 
I bring my excitement and longing down.

Gravity dictates how far and fast I can go.

Once in a safe zone, I leap off of the swing, running across the yard. 

I feel light and powerful in my mind and heart

I just can’t fly like the birds ~ 
    my flying must be grounded.

"The trick is to be grateful when your 
mood is high and graceful when it is low."

~ Richard Carlson