The tall tree’s branch, thicker
Than my torso, hung horizontally
Moving in the breeze as if
Waving at me.
I admit to heeding the call as
The thick rope tied to the branch
Beckoned, knotted at the bottom like
A huge wart.
I could run from where I stood
And have a modest swing or
Grabbing the knot I could climb
The outcropped rock and launch
Myself into the universe.
Dangling thrill that it was, tethered
Still to the branch, and hanging on
Precariously lest I experience the
Awkward spill of a short flight
To the hard dirt, clipped wings
And all.
Ron Russo
No comments:
Post a Comment