After a hike to see the Middle Falls
At Letchworth State Park,
We pause at the playground.
My brother and I hop on the swings.

Far from being a child now,
my butt is a little too wide,
The black strap a little too snug.

But the rhythm is never forgotten,
Leaning forward and back.
The air swirls past,
The chains creak.

I jump, never bold enough
When I was young.
My brother sticks the landing.
I stumble a couple of steps.

My hands smell of metal.