It looks like an old tire swing

But it’s really a magic machine

That can transport you

Anywhere your imagination can go

I’ve sailed away to lands afar

Swinging in an old tire from a car

Told my secrets to the tree limbs

As I rocked back and forth in the wind

Planned my future revisited my past

Sometimes swinging slow, sometimes fast

Laughed for hours with my sister

Spinning each other like a twister

Sometimes still when I run across one

I pause for a moment to reflect on the fun

That can be had in an old tire swing

Twirling or swinging in that magic machine

E.A.Fussell

07/3/2018

At the end of a long day

I watched as the sun sank slowly

To the other side of the world

Where it continues to shine

As it leaves the darkness behind

I noticed the old tree limbs

Continually lifting upward

In their unflinching attempt

To reach the sky

In direct contrast

With their roots grasping and

Burying themselves deeper in the earth

A seeming dichotomy of purpose

One part reaching upward bound by

The other part forcing itself down

In an ongoing struggle forever bound

I saw a windmill gently turn

Faithful to the wind and

Whichever way it was blowing

Unconcerned with right or wrong

It’s metal structure glowing in the sunset

Sometimes I’m like the setting sun,

Leaving the darkness behind

Continuing to shine

Sometimes I’m like the old tree

Divided within myself

Wanting to reach new heights

Bound by roots of tradition

Sometimes I’m like the windmill

Allowing my thoughts to go

Whichever way the next wind blows

E.A. Fussell

07/08/2018