Up The Down Tree Poem by Richard D Remler

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Not long after school,
When my homework is done.
When the blue of the sky
Falls away from the sun.

When the crickets start singing
Their soft serenade,
And each Frittle Frog ventures
Free from the blue shade.

The Summer winds call me
And draw me away-
And I wonder just what
They may show me today.

They may whisper of wonders,
And dragons that be.
They may echo of rainbows
That sweep the grand sea.

They may speak of the shadows
That grace the blue sky,
And I'll greet them so kindly
As they wander on by.

They will play with the solitude
Catching their breeze,
Sharing their secrets
With all the young trees.

And leaving a blessing
Upon this new earth,
A wee bit of good fortune,
And humor, and mirth.

They may share quiet tales
Of the here along the way,
And I'll find myself lost
In the things that they say.

So lost I won't notice the crick
In the branches I'll climb,
Nor the moment, the minute,
The passing of time.

I'll not see there are stars
Where the day ought to be,
I'll be here, with the wind,
Climbing up the down tree.

In branches that reach
Oh, so low, and then high,
Stretching strong arms
Just to touch the night sky,

And then wander on down
With adventure in mind,
To count all the
Memory Stones it can find.

And I'll hear the Wind laugh,
Though gentle it be,
And I'll wonder what humor
It is finding in me.

And as I try, and I try
To climb high, I'm aware,
The tree turns me about,
And I'll find it unfair.

Every branch that leads up
Turns about a new way,
Winding there, reaching here,
In a grand disarray.

I'll finally reach up
When I find the trees crown,
But instead of the stars,
I'll be touching the ground.

And it's a dizzying thing-
And not at all fair!
To go so round about
And never get anywhere.

But the crickets, they'll sing
Their soft chivaree,
And the fireflies will not
Seem so bothered by me.

And I'll find me a branch
Where I'll sit just to spy
How many stars must be
Up in the night sky.

And I'll watch the leaves dance
In this warm, careless breeze,
As they wind their way through
All the old boxwood trees.

Near red and blue waters
Where the witch-grasses roam,
And where the Many-Eyed Itches
Tend to call home.

I'll not mention the stardust
That 'oft whispers "hello, "
As if it were telling
This young tree to grow.

Beside Bluebell Ribbons
And an old Fender Bee
That ever so quietly
Haunt this green sea.

This be-speckle of nature
Gently crafted by time,
Where the bluest- blue ivy
Of the new summer climb.

I will keep to myself,
A bit baffled, for sure.
And I'll not say a word,
I'll be quite lost and obscure.

I'll be wondering
However,
Did I come to be
So very lost
Up the down tree.


Copyright © MMXIII Richard D. Remler