Solace sought from sour siblings,
Nature’s parchment curling on slender arms
Beckon challenge out of the soil
Come see with our eyes.
Fleshy limbs seeking wooden ones,
I scamper up the trunk, gaining
Footing on knobs and knuckles and knots,
Until my weight bows the bough.
My arms and legs tendriled, and
With the greater bole below,
Together we sway.
Cheek pressed to the bark and eyes closed,
Pounding xylem and phloem in my ears, I
Autumn’s cool kiss tousling my hair
We bend deeply together,
Rocking daughter, cradling mother.
Much of my time as a small child was spent outdoor amidst the wooded land behind our home in rural Southern New Hampshire. Being the youngest sister of three, I spent much of my time observing nots: learning what not to do, how not to get caught, how not to be found…
View original post 664 more words