Swinging In Sapling Pines...

My father would tell my brother and I
How he used to swing in sapling pines.
He would play out all day and roam away
To some pasture far from his home.
Then he made his ascent to the top of its boughs,
And began to lean hard to the ground.

Back and forth, back and forth,
Till the sapling bent like a bow.

Then as the bough would bend

From the ground to the sky

Taking him from low then to high

He would exchange his tree for one not bent

Swinging in sapling pines.