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
Branches,
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.
