The wind stops and the birds chirp.

The leaves are brushing against me,

Like an old cat grooming another,

But I keep climbing.

 

The bark is as fragile as a ceramic vase.

Any tree taller than me,

I must climb,

I wonder, how high am I?

 

I ask Mother Nature,

“Do you accept me?”

“Yes, my child, I do."

The wind stops and the birds chirp.