Through a Glass, Darkly

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

I love to swing. Whenever my mom would push me on the swing as a child, she would recite this poem. I still think of it when anyone mentions swinging, or when I get on a swing myself.

Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
River and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside–

Today I am kind of stressed out. Right now, what I would like most of all is to be outside, in the sun, swinging. I would glide through the air and lean back and let the sun shine on my face and the wind flow through my hair. The sun and the wind and the sky and the movement of the swing cutting through the air would help me relax.

Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown–
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!

It’s not as if it would actually make anything better, but I think it would make me feel better. Swinging is childhood and grandma’s and Charlotte’s Web and summer and crickets and strawberry jam. I could use a little of that today.