Some people might think a solitary swing is the epitome of loneliness; forlorn, swaying empty in the breeze.

Instead, I like to remember this poem by Robert Louis Stevenson and think of the joy it brings to the Angels; well, except when they’re fighting over whose turn it is to swing.

The Swing

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!

–ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON