Where I Fly

Up, up, up

bare feet

knobby knees

sweaty palms

Hugging the trunk

with my body

like a monkey

clinging to momma's waist.

Each groove and curve familiar

shaped by my growing hands and feet.

Friends on my heels,

I clamber on

Eager to be the first to climb,

to reach the highest branch

where tranquil breezes await

cooling the skin

from the heat

of the Caribbean sun.

Brushing leafy limbs

left and right

as I scramble higher and higher

until I find the place

where the seat

holds my small frame

with perfection.

Reaching for the soft petals

of the native flamboyant

holding their brilliant fragility

with tender affection,

Breathing deeply

sunshine on my face

wind in my hair,

I close my eyes

holding on tightly

afraid that I could fall

but feeling more

like I could fly.

And for a moment

I really do.

Linked up with Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop

about a place I felt safe growing up