Playground Versus Bulldozer
We take for granted
The simple pleasures
Of two legs dangling, swaying
Back and forth to push the seat
Of a swing further and faster,
Passing point of rest again
And again until the chain that holds
Stops ever so briefly
Perpendicular to the ground.
Breath held for a split second,
Of laughter unleashed.
However one looks at it,
There is no room for a bulldozer
In this memory. No room at all.