Swings Poem by Glen Kappy
Swings
Yesterday—the final day of school—
the children would have filled the seats
their arcing back and forth and back and forth
approaching to perpetual motion.
This morning—sunny, clear—
the rectangles of their plastic seats
of red and yellow, green and blue
seem less than bright and—if possible—
more than still.
vaidyanathan, thank you for reading and commenting on my poem. the best to you. -gk
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 4:59:51 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Did you miss them, Glen? There's something very special about watching children play. And something very strange about an empty playground and school. Enjoy your vacation!
hey, laurie! miss them? yes. i guess. a one day's difference, but such a difference. does silence also have an echo? -glen