Come climb my tree with me.
Shed your shoes;
leap and catch hold.
This old anchor of oak,
granddaddy urged upwards when he was a boy
though he never swam through its branches.
Let's clutch, claw, and climb
trunk, limb and leaf
insinuating ourselves into its arms
like climbing into the lap of a lover.
Hide with me here at the top,
arms looped loosely over one big branch
- and each other.
We maintain only a tenuous connection to the ground,
closer to ourselves than to the rest of the low world underneath.
Pretend to touch the sky
reach your hand up and out
brushing clouds back like kittens.
Come climb my tree with me
and we'll go high enough, I think, to touch dreams.
