The Old Wooden Swing

As a girl,
I found refuge
In the backyard
of my grandparent's
farm.

I'd lay
on the old
wooden swing,
hanging
between two pecan trees,

Rocking
back and forth
as the breeze
moved the pages
of a favorite novel or
Piece of prose
 or poetry.

Release was found
staring at the clouds
moving through
the heavens
with subtle
changes in their
evolving forms
of idealized
states.

Teenage drama,
broken hearts
let go as dreams
of white knights
on shining steads
and the Prince
that God meant for me
formed in the prayer
of my silent
heart.

Dreams
of walking
in God's light
as a servant,
a mother,
and wife
from long ago
on that swing
have never been far
from whom I felt
called to be.

That swing
and the innocence
are no more,
but the heart
for Christ
still burns
with the
longing.

As I turn
my focus
to my children
to God's call,
I am reminded
of the peace
and vision
found
in the simple time
in nature,
With God,
swaying
between
two pecan trees
on the old
wooden swing.