Climbing the stairs to reach the trees
up there in the open sky,
to be with childhood again,
no longer a child, not yet old,
nonetheless a climber,
who knows his or her place is with
the trees in the sky

children chant their usual sing-song,
‘Then we had cake, then we had pie,
look how close we are to the sky.’
we are so close to the brief beauty
of cloud, flower and leaf,
the stars we cut out in childhood
are still close at hand

when we climb up into the air,
safe for a while in
our illusionary smiles,
climbing an invisible stair,
walking in the tops of trees
promenading with many others
in the first days of spring

all along the high-way, there are
many empty windows
that reflect nothing but the sky,
the airy processional goes on,
all ice creams and lunchtime gossip
and just about as much loneliness
that anyone can bear.