Relative Height

I stopped seeing them as ladders

and started seeing them as threats to the insurance,

calculating the weight of the limbs

and the distance to the power lines.

But there’s a kite up there now,

a triangle of plastic that looks like a warning

caught in the throat of the silver maple.

I reached for the first branch,

my fingers finding the rough, corky bark

and the memory of how to swing my leg over.

The sap is a slow, thick amber,

hardening in the deep lines of my palm,

sticking me to the wood like I’m part of the growth.

I’m twenty feet up and my knees are shaking,

not because of the height, but because

I forgot how small the street looks

when you aren't standing on it.