Mar 20, 2013 Parenting/ Home-schooling / Family Music and other Notes
Playground Hour — A Poem
©By Vijaya Sundaram
March 20th, 2013
We were godlings for an hour.
Cold, cold air snapping at our ankles,
Obliging crunch of snow underfoot,
Nose smarting with arctic anticipation,
Ears aflame, feet double-socked, snow-boot shod,
Frame encased in layer upon layer
(A true New Englander now, twenty-four years gone),
I walked mitten-in-mitten with my girl
To the playground.
A pretty spaniel along the way,
Raced up and down her fence, ready to play,
A shy, timorous dog a little further on
Trembled and shook at our approach,
But suffered our soothing caresses,
Terrified of who-knew-what.
While his body was cradled by loving mistress
(“He’s always scared, we don’t know why,”
She explained, reassuringly.)
Perhaps, he sensed we were godlings.
On we went, my daughter and I
To the playground, where she and I
Were the sole owners of a blue-white space,
And the sun struggled in vain to light a void
At once dark-gray and summer blue,
A study in battling contradiction, with
Moon scudding past clouds on the left,
Sun sinking grandly on our right;
A sky-statement that promised warmth
But delivered empty light.
We godlings don’t mind.
We raced up and down the snow-crushed slides,
Fell backwards on crystallized snow,
Gazed up at the ringing sky,
Heard the heartbeat of the earth
For a few, still, silent moments
While six p.m. traffic, frantic and home-fixated,
Ebbed and flowed on a distant shore.
The earth hummed into our spines,
As the sky flowed away from our arms
Outstretched on the snow.
We were truly godlings, light-haloed.
Then, with sudden uprush of glee, we arose,
Startled the still air with our cries
And our crashing feet. Elemental,
We threw snowballs at each other.
Shrieks of joy from child,
Muttered imprecations from mother,
Fun on a swing, meeting the skies,
We played, snow-muted.
Then, alas! It was time to leave.
Our magic hour was up.
Time to resume human form.
Godlings have to deal with time, too.
“No! Let’s stay! Can’t we?” she said,
Sparking rebellious, but subsiding.
“I wish we lived here,” she sighed.
But, she came, obediently, hand in mine.
She knew we would play there again,
Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps all the days
Flowing through her childhood.
For she truly came from the Gods.
And I watch her grow, enchanted.
And so, homeward-bound, we tromped,
Watching the sky unfold
Into deepening layers of color.
And the distant Tower swam into view,
As we sloped, tilting earthward,
Down, down, down to where we lived,
Home, for dinner. How human!
But we were godlings for that hour.
And we shall be so, again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tags: #Childhood, #Mother and Daughter, #Original Poetry, Fun, Godlings, Play, Playground, Snow-games