the blackwood tree

your spindly leaves, green as grapes
your sharp, crooked branches
reaching for the clouds
my footwork smooth
on your mahogany-brown trunk
I clamber through the leaves
your limbs aching from the pressure
but I know you will not drop me
I know you are strong
my knees, bloody and raw
showing only the reminders
of your tough skin
I leap up the last few stairs, russet-brown
and the cerulean sky explodes around me
and then the world spins
the branch teeters like a door
on broken hinges
I plummet, my bare legs running ruby red
and in that moment, my gentle giant
catches me