The Limb
My fear is that you’ll look up one day
and see all that you’ve missed. I fear that
more than you not looking up at all, and
never knowing, and never changing
your ways—you’ll have to do all this all
over again, you know. It’s seeing that
saves us. Here, I want to say and all
the hard work that comes, after. But it isn’t
work, is it, so much as letting go: a bird
who thinks too much will never lift off
the branch. Bird has only to look up, see
the sky and know her place in it. Then,
it’s as if the branch had never existed at all
and also like it had been there all along.
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Brilliant!