Remember what it was like to climb the apple tree?
The perspective from higher off the ground,
How high can you climb?
The feeling of being enfolded in its limbs of many branches,
Scratchy and smooth, solid and strong
Enough to hold your weight,
But higher up only the weight of a bird.
Remember the wind rustling her secrets?
Can you feel the flow of nourishment up from the roots?
You hid there with a book.
Remember peeking out?

Photo and poem by Diane Wheeler Dunn

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