I want to be a tree,
reach my arms to heaven’s window,
shatter the sky to pale blue shards,
and catch the pieces in my palms
scatter sunlight on children
locking limbs and laughter
who clamber on my shoulders
as I show them a new world.
I want them to know this is home,
strong and straight,
a foundation for those who leap
with great faith and open wings to soar
until they need to rest, to nest.
I want to echo the casual hubbub
of community life;
breezes like rascals racing
between foliage skirts
and fussy birds squawking
over boundary lines and riffraff cats
too distracted to notice
how the insects execute
the penultimate dine-and-dash.
I want to dig my toes in
feel rooted in the ground
steadfast in Winter’s stormy face
even if it break my boughs.
And should I fall to forest floor
when living days are done
I’ll rest amongst my children
and give to them once more.