The Tree
The trunk of you
bark soft as fur
but with the strength of
wood
moves between my thighs
I climb to your
heights
wrapping my limbs
around yours
My grip is strong
for I have never
been easy with this
position
my feet so far
off the ground
Yet your leaves entice
me to rise
higher
brushing against me
like a whisper
compelling
how high
I am dizzy
but you are still
a sturdy nature’s
pole
with only the
rustle of leaves
screaming
the ecstasy of the
climbed
December 12, 1992
Tressa Lee Breen
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