The Swing

I left just long enough to snap

a photo — capturing this sweet 

time of life with two little ones 

precious to me. We spent 

so many afternoons watching 

for dragonflies and playing

school bus; I would take them 

anywhere they imagined to go, 

pretending to drive this slanting, 

white picket swing, lovingly

made by my father’s hands. 

It creaked but held the weight 

of these two and me, an aunt 

overwhelmed with joy, hurrying 

to catch the moment, hold it 

in stasis in the cloud, ageless,

so I could bring the memory up

again and again, the three of us 

in a twinkling of perfection,

one afternoon that seems 

so long ago, that beautiful

day when they sat, unmoving,

content to hold that space 

open for me….

Oh, how I miss that swing…

–C.L. Fisher, April 2020

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