Was listening to the radio at lunch and they recited the poem "Trees" by Joyce Kilmer, which reminded me of a childhood memory.

When I was young, before my grandfather retired, we would make trips to the "The Farm" which was a 200 acre farm out in the middle of nowhere.  "The Farm" had been owned by Mr. McDonald and my grandfather had bought it the year I was born when old McDonald died (I kid you not).  In the 12 years between buying it and retiring, he installed a water and sewer system, built a new garage, remodelled part of the house to include a laundry room and bathroom (cringes at the memory of having to use an outhouse), and put in a woodburning stove.

The closest neighbor was up the hill 1/2 mile away.  An older lady lived alone up there, and we would walk the gravel road with my grandparents to her house every once in a while.  She had this huge swingset made of metal pipe.  And while my grandparents would do repairs around her house for her, she would entertain my younger brother and I by pushing us on that swing.  While she did this, she would recite the poem "The Swing" and swung us high.

The Swing
by Robert Lewis Stevenson

How do you like to go up in a swing,
Up in the air so blue?
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
Ever a child can do!

Up in the air and over the wall,
Till I can see so wide,
Rivers and trees and cattle and all
Over the countryside---

Till I look down on the garden green,
Down on the roof so brown---
Up in the air I go flying again,
Up in the air and down!