Treehouse Haven
Soft grass welcomes out quick feet,
a happy invitation
to keep going.
The contrast of rough rope
clutched between racing hands
tells us we’re almost there.
Up and up and up
we climb,
leaving grass and rope behind.
In our treehouse,
soft and rough
wants and needs
expectations and anxieties
are left on the ground.
Freedom flies
on the wind in our treetop,
brushing our faces
and tangling our hair.
We fly on the wings of
each passing bird
and flutter with delight
like every rustling leaf.
Happiness warms us
as surely as the sunlight
we draw closer to –
as close as we can.
Up here –
sharing the sky
and forgetting the ground –
I feel life love me.
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