in the playground

tough, Ragged cracks in the Earth

beckon to Us; we manhandle

the rocks and dirt

with a keen unknowing Grace; a

little Girl

swings in the playground higher still

her mother

pushing, arms outstretched

in the autumn’s

twilight, she

lingers in the Sky there suspended

at the zenith of

her arc Singing a quiet song of

hope

and incision --