I stood below
A maple tree
And looked up into the sky.
I heard an inward voice cry, “Climb!”
It was calling out to me!
“See what’s out in your backyard,
Atop that maple tree.”
I set my foot to the sturdy roots
And onto the man made stair
I put to my hand the first brown branch,
That seemed inviting there.
Up and up,
On up and up,
I climbed that maple tree.
“That branch is gone,” the voice bemoaned,
“You broke it months ago.”
But I, determined, just made do
With one that did near grow.
I finally managed to get myself
To the top of that maple tree
A level above the usual one
So more of the world I could see.
At the top
Oh, what a sight!
Did meet my hungry eyes!
The whole wide earth, it seemed to spread
Out at my very feet
The colours! The sights! The thrills I got
From the top of that maple tree!
The reds, and greens, and yellows, too
The oranges, golds, and whites,
The greys and browns and purple-blues
The shadows and the lights!
I listened
As I stood atop
That grand old maple tree!
I heard a cicada’s tuneless song
And the chirpy little bird
A car drove past, and made the noise
That always can be heard.
Then I heard a sound that was
Not quite so pleasant to hear.
The sounding of my mother’s calling voice,
“It’s time to come in, my dear!”
So down, down
Down I went
From the top of that maple tree.
I put my foot on the closest branch,
That for the broken substitutes,
Past the wooden man-made stair
Onto the God-made roots.
So down I jump from that maple tree
That grand old, strong old tree,
But content am I, for well I know,
It hasn’t seen the last of me!
