The branches scrape as I climb for the top
The swaying scares me but I trust this tree
One branch bent so much I had to just stop
The ground’s pull is greater than a scraped knee

Gravity yanks as the ground shrinks smaller
Leaves brush my face but it’s a nice welcome
Hold tight for fear of catching my collar
My legs cramp and I scrape some torn denim

I shudder from the spiky legs of bugs
They crawl over my fingers then retreat
The limbs thin out and so do the slugs
Even at the top I feel incomplete

Now I’m at the tall summit of all things
Then I look back down and wish for some wings