Swing up, swing down,

Swing high, swing low!

From mango tree

Or guava tree branches,

The swing rope tautened

While the wooden seat steadied.

The legs kicked up

Into the clouds

And folded back

To pull into position

For the next kick.

Effervescent joy bubbled up

And echoes of raucous laughter

Carried back between swings

Up into the skies.

From the height,

The world could be seen,

From top to bottom, 

As if from bird’s-eye-view.

The air became thinner

At the high point

Of the trajectory

When the swing swung

Back and forth like a pendulum.

A child in infantile chortle

And a hard-bitten  yet jolly adult

Could both feel the abandon

Of tetherless freedom

And undescribed ecstasy.

All the cares of the world were shed

Until the swinging became slower,

Legs became weaker

Till they reached placid ground

And met with mundane realism.