POETRY | TREES | SELF

The Flamboyant Tree Climber

She left on a jet plane to a land where there were no Flamboyants to climb

Photo by Nicholas Bartos on Unsplash

the freckled, tanned girl, nineteen years nurtured
under the yon glaring faraway sun,
stepped back far enough from the Flamboyant,
deliberately gave another spun

“Naught to it; easy-peasy,” she murmured
as she tested the soundness of her tree
then reaching a comfy limb, she mounted
exhaled long at the grand view of the sea

this was how she wanted to recall it:
suspended like a halo — nothing new
will the sea there be just as majestic?
will there be Flamboyant trees to climb too?

nineteen years, she’d waited for tomorrow,
relieved she didn’t have to steal or borrow
she’ll get on that plane despite their sorrow
the girl on that tree, her maxim hollo

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