A Woolly Swing

I rested both hands against the wide loop of the mustard-yellow scarf... dangling low from the armchair. It curved just an inch above the rug, swaying slightly. I paused, tilting my head... and pressed down on the thick ribbed yarn. It held firm. Carefully, I lifted one white shoe into the woolly dip, wobbled for a breath, and sat down into the center. With a tiny push of my heels against the floor, the scarf swung gently forward... then drifted slowly back. I held tight to the soft knit edges, listening to the quiet rhythm of my little swing.