My Climbing Tree

In our backyard there’s a climbing tree

With branches stretched out like arms for me

To scramble and climb and clutch and cling to

Until there is sky and a cloud to sing to.

A blue jay settles way out on a limb

And watches me as I watch him.

“My tree,” he chirps. “Mine too,” I say.

Then I straddle a branch and ride away.

I gallop to China, I speed to Spain,

And then I’m galloping home again—

For the back door slams; a voice hollers to me,

“Hey, you up there! Hey, boy in a tree,

How about sharing some cookies with me?”

So I do.

Wouldn’t you?