The Swing

thoughts, so many

running away from the fears of the future

across the dead leaves in scattered crunches

speckled across the path in view.

something catches the eye

a swing on a large oak tree

swaying slowly in the spring breeze.

memories of childhood come to view

interrupting the feelings of blue.

the breeze is soothing

and the smell of smoke accentuates the cloudy day.

the impending storm begins to slowly grumble

and the red-shouldered hawks decide to fly home.

it is as if there is a raging fire

behind the storm

but the rain is falling

trying to put it out.