I’m friends with a tree

Marlena Chertock
I’m friends with a tree

with rough brown skin
and long branches of leaves
like many hands reaching different directions

and I use the lowest one for my legs,
flip upside-down, hold tight to my sister’s hand
as she scrambles up,
the granola bars and pudding cups stuffed in her pockets.

We lifted a wooden chair into the tree once,
me on tiptoes pushing the seat, my sister tugging a leg,
and I sat on it in case it fell
because my sister’s neck is like the tree’s littlest twigs.

We don’t invite anyone else to climb
or pretend to fly or become invisible,
spying on other kids,
hiding in its top branches.

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2 thoughts on “I’m friends with a tree

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