after a minor eternity looking up into the tree
they’re still nibbling overripe ground fruit
finally they’re reaching up into the tree
groping its pristine offspring
unable to contain their senses
they’re shinnying up the trunk like wood eels
in a quest for more encounters
they’re passing the fruit by
going hand over hand through the branches
they’re waving from the top
with a hand and foot in mid air
they’re swaying in the breeze
hopping across clouds
hovering over the whole orchard
the full watershed
the entire continent
they’re break-dancing on some barren star
squinting back at their planet
almost motionless
acting out a somber opera
about their teeth
entering the fabled flesh
of a nectarine
By Climbing Sun
Climbing Sun is a world and inner traveler, body-surfer, engineer, teacher, and poet born in Michigan, raised in Ohio, and educated in Florida, who continues to design structures in South Florida and California where he was based for four decades. He has taught poetry in elementary and junior high schools. He is the author of two chapbooks and a novel. He holds a Bachelor of Civil Engineering degree from the University of Florida and maintains a poetry blog. www.climbingsun.com