Every day, on my walk, I pass a vacant lot where a small untamed tree supports a tire swing. It has always struck me as a bit lonely and not very exciting. A few days ago a cardboard box appeared as well. Suddenly this is a magical place. I see the possibilities; fortress, stage coach or pirate ship. I know that the young spirit who has furnished this dream world is more likely into space ships or something more current from a cartoon or movie that I am too grown-up to understand. No matter. I smile as I round the corner and see that the submarine/train/time travel machine has moved since the day before. I can feel the residual energy of an imagination at
work. I can hear the echoes of play.