In the trees, I…
touch the blue sky,
trust and defy,
stop asking why.
Continuing down the poetry path with Tree Tops. When I finished traversing the log and wires, peacefulness seeped into my soul. I decided that not only was I born in the wrong century, I was born in the wrong form. Because amongst the branches, squirrels, birds and bugs, I left fear, worry and material things behind.
My true self, the one who is happy and curious, who is once again 10 and 11 years-old, hiking in the woods inhaling the scent of oak and sassafras, waking up smiling at the raccoon on her chest, counting the comets in an inky sky firefly-lit with constellations, who loves that Tonka, a baby goat, kisses her hair with his milky mouth, who is allowed to forge a new identity with a name she’s chosen herself and is therein called “Flower,” that girl believes in her poems, characters and stories. She believes someone else will want to hear them, too, But, in that treetop world, if the only ones who hear them are the squirrels, Robins, Daddy Long Legs and Praying Mantises, that’s okay because Mother Earth and Father Sky are listening and Mother Earth and Father Sky value that curious, happy girl.
Your adventures always inspire me. May be one day, I get to climb high and reach for the sky too. I just need to close my eyes. Can I do that? I freak out with heights.
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Thanks. There are plenty of adventures down on the ground, too!
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Thanks for reading the post and commenting. Those precious little girls…
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Oh, Naomi. Never doubt that you’re a born writer. Great post. You’re daring and awesome!
My true self is an eleven-year-old too, sitting in the branches of a tree. I used to LOVE to climb trees.
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Thanks and you too, Jalal.
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Daring pictures..Thank you for liking my post and for your comment.Every day is precious every dream is beautiful.Have a blessed day.jalal
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