Small legs in oscillation Airborne from the ground On a swing overlooking a future With only a thin wire fence in the way And with every forward movement It felt as though I could pass through the holes of the fence And be turned into the rays of light that cast themselves through both ways And rise up to the off-white sky of how I remember that non-day And then back, allowing myself to fall in an arc Braced by my smaller hands grasping the metal chains of the swing With holes more appropriate for a child that age But even now I refuse to pass through that fence And I will always refuse For the sky is on this side And the non-day is as alive as the grass untouched On the other side I imagine myself dismounting My hand trailing a chain with tender hesitation And wandering behind to leafy shade To dance to the moment and its melody in softest solitude