I climb trees at night
with my hands,
eyes,
my soul,
with my lips,
and I pick the green leaves one by one,
one by one,
my hands become so small,
or, suddenly
they grow so big,
and so long
that I can't see them,
or I see them too well,
or, I feel them picking the little green leaves
and putting them in a sac that is attached to my body,
my shoulders,
chest,
breath,
holding tight
breathing
until I climb soft branches,
or I reach trees with big heavy branches,
where I stop and eat jam,
sweet jam
made from little leaves,
like a baby, I cover my head with leaves,
I dance in green leaves,
and  I jump in yellow leaves that ones were green leaves,
I am an old man that holds a green leaf în between his tongue and thees and sings from a Greenleaf,

I climb trees at night
as if I am swimming up in the sun rays,
I see little leaves with the little names written on them,

I climb trees at night
and it is in that night I wake up with no pain,
No tears, No regrets, No resentments,
In that night I wake up with a smile on my face,
like a newborn that climbs trees at night,

I never stopped climbing trees at night,
but last night I was climbing on Everest,