The tree

Up the tree
I climb
my hands and feet
on limbs I reach
higher, up I go
higher, still
a spot is found
where the air is more fresh
than on the ground below
which seems so much smaller now

Up the tree
I rise
above the noise of the
people with their chatter
about how to do ‘this’ and
how to be ‘that’ and
how it is done
as a matter of fact

In fact!

But they do not look up
amongst the leaves where I hide
and ride the merciful sway
of a bough in the breeze
with the heel of my head
against the rough bark
where I feel
like a babe in my mother’s
sweet arms

Up the tree
I rest
and watch the marmosets
at nest in the branches
and listen the call
of a bem-te-vi song
in the late-day sun-light
dappled on my face
and in my eyes, lids grow
heavy, they fold
and I forget the world below
for just a
minute more
I will stay


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