What one wooden branch
wouldn't swing back to serve you?
Hoist you up and save your knees
from the explosion on contact and dirt
particles nestled in your skin
and twigs tangled in hair

Our wrists don't hold up
like they used to

On tightest dull contact
I waited to note
the small dots and moss in the bark
as it slid over your bones
and your yelp of fear
and the air moving under
your feeble hands grasping

Don't tell me to hold on
when you release with such ease

The puddles from last night's rain
reach up towards the clouds
like they were never there at all