The Swings

a huge macrocarpa towers above

sun peaking through its dark green leaves

ropes descend from the branches

nets, swings, hammocks and trees

fear intertwined with excitement

I grip the rope and run to the edge

the ground is replaced by the valley below

as I twirl through the warm rays of light

sparrows dash through vine-covered foliage

with a choir of joyful chirps

I crash back into the dusty hillside

inhaling the sweet pine decomposing

fog creeps in and the sun recedes

but a new adventure dawns

skin scrapes on bark as I haul myself up

through the macrocarpa trees and into the fading light