SEASON OF THE SILLINESS (for Barbara)
And then there were giggles, and girls giggling until their faces fevered and their hearts beat shiver fast and the whole extravagant blooming world shimmered and blurred, and they were up, up – legs pumping, heads thrown back, chins tilted skyward like some sort of cloud pointers, hands gripping the sturdy thick chains. And they needn’t come back to earth. At least for one long minute – the swings granting them grace. The small city park a hot summer’s refuge.
Love the slow start and flying cadence of the season! Well done!
I love the exuberance of this poem; and the subtle context of current day underpinning it – the line “they needn’t come back to earth” such a fantasy right now. To be little and free in the park! You captured the moment wonderfully.
to: dohamonde,
Your poem, like one of my own (The Maypole) gives me memories of the pure, uncondemned freedom of joy and fun! The imagery kept me in the air. Good job!
Seventh Solstise