I should be doing laundry. Instead,
      you’re swinging
         into the sky above a river valley.
Back and forth, a metronome back
      out over a steep decline.
   Back and forth on a song playing
      Hopscotch between my right and left ears.
The damp sidewalk, one foot on pavement
   a seesaw melody.
I’d be walking down    
   one foot on the grass
      to a playground to swing in time with you,
but I’m doing laundry instead.