The Swing
The Swing
It's father time and mother earth
that make the world grow far and small,
that rock the cradle back and forth.
When distance lifts before the fall
where grounding touch comes close behind
to make the world grow far and small.
It's here you swing with glee to find
what's lost and found upon that shore
where grounding touch comes close behind.
It's back in front again before
it disappears to be what comes,
what's lost and found upon the shore.
And there again and back, it plumbs
to hold what's left behind in play.
It disappears to be what comes
at last to stop in gentle sway
to hold what's left behind in play;
it's father time and mother earth
that rock the cradle back and forth.
Notes:
(c) R. H. Peat - 5/21/98 - 11:38 am
Form Terzanelle/ 19 lines
From a photo by Gerry Swart
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