climbing up a tree inside a dress of leaves
past birds' nests and baby blue eggs
tender white apple blossoms
cheek pressed against skin of ash
tongue tastes elmery butter
fingers twiddle oak leaves
hands cup mahogany pods.
fluttering rotory of maple seeds
whir inside from increasing height.
i would wrap my arms around a branch,
wonder if i fall, would that bough break it?
i would lie in wait for hummingbirds
never to see them still.
good grip! no looking down
inside of arms and legs rubbed raw
against the bark of a wild cherry.
bare feet is the best for climbing,
toes inserted carefully into crevices
arches bent over branches
heel wedged between limbs.
i reach to the tips of the most delicate strands
that heave from the wind and my weight.
there's room for only one,
no two could fit at these extremes,
my skin absorbs a moist breeze
my outstretched head enters the ether
out beyond the foliage,
and i hover.