Tangled empty branches

I clamber through

Searching for some bud,

some shoot,

some blossom,

Some opening into your

secret hidden sap.

Almost forgotten

the spring, the summer

of your bright green bounty:

its precious fruit.

I clamber carefully

Not wanting to fall,

Afraid this branch

or another

Might lead nowhere

or crack beneath

my weight.

Mostly I cling to

your trunk

Safe and strong

Straight and predictable,

Not like those tangled


those fragile reaching twigs.

I watch other climbers

In other trees:

Some fearless in their explorations,

Others careful and considered like me.

Sometimes I begin

the journey along some safer branch,

Only to turn back

And cling again.