the swing

how happy the child is
as the swing
lifts him
towards the blue
sky and clouds,
his feet straight
with boots,
his eyes glistening
with winter,
apart from earth,
but not quite,
his hands held tight on
the dark chain
that holds the seat,
the bar above,
higher, higher he shouts,
no fear of anything behind
or in front of him,
not yet.