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Survival
Just a Swing?
“Creek”
“Creek”
“Creek”
Back and forth slowly in tune with the wind
The wind as my musician and me as their instrument
“I call the blue one!” yells a girl with delight
They sit not caring who sat there last
I begin to move
Faster
Faster
Faster
Until…
Whoosh they’ve jumped off to play elsewhere
Now what?
“Creek”
“Creek”
“Creek”
I begin to play in tune with the wind
Jarring my chains as I sway.
To you I am just a swing,
but to the wind I am their instrument.
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