Monkey Bars

I watched the children in the corner park
amuse themselves on monkey bars. I saw
each swinging body ride a measured arc,
depending arm to arm on natural law.

(You cannot rush a pendulum. Its swing
is its identity, its moment set.
The gravity of earth plays everything
in terms of periodic minuet.)

No more can you condense into a week
emotions it took seasons to produce,
than you can push a pendulum to wreak
unlawful pace. There isn’t any use
in seeking the perspective that you need
at any but its own intrinsic speed.

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2 Responses to Monkey Bars

  1. The last stanza here is great (and well set-up by the first two) it has such nice movement, almost mimics your subject matter. nicely done.

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