A Tire and a Tree

This is the image of my grandma's in Idaho. Even at 13 I knew to take a few moments to just enjoy it.

A Tire and a Tree
My grandma's tree, in her backyard, holds a tire swing
In its leaves the wind does sing
The tree is old,  but strong and tall
Its leaves are colored orange, in fall.
On the highest branch, a large rope is bound.
It too is old, but strong, and dangles to the ground.
At the end of the rope is an old truck tire.
To help the know stay tight, the rope's secured with wire.
The tree's a shelter, the leaves block the rain
The tire is old, black, and plain.
The rope's so long you can swing high.
If you're pushed,  you'll reach the sky.
The tree is resting on a hill.
The tire's waiting, against its will.
Sometimes the tire seems to call to me.
I'll swing on it, high, wild, and free.