John Anderson Poet Etheree

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Swing Swung by Wily Wind

we
met for
no reason
in lonely park
where we happened to
be, both there at the same,
time for no real reason,
just an accident really,
that happenstance yen-ed to sublime.
we both heard the empty swing grind a creak
as wind swung it to and fro, to and fro,
we spoke gently about the pathos
of the scene, swing parked empty,
echoing the joyous laughs
of kids at play with creaks
of cold rusty chains,
enlivened by
the puffs of
wily
wind

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