poke.
something about the way it all feels brings be back to the first memory i can recall as a child. swinging on an old tire swing that was assembled by by brothers and i. swinging and feeling careless, dangerous and free. off the bench and into the clear blue sky I would go, over the green mossy grass, and beneath the tree house that hung its watchful head onto me. worries rest like a vulture on my shoulder now. Because I am older, and hopefully a little bit wiser. today i won't be cautious.