the last time i climbed a tree
(outside of my poetic imaginings)
was perhaps four years ago
or five

i was trying to keep up
with my daughters
they were ten and fourteen
if memory serves

i swung from the branches
dances amongst the boughs
was young again
for a moment
or two

then my grip slipped
i fell to the ground
with quite a thud
and
a distinct crack
or two

both bones in my wrist
cleanly broken
both ankles
painfully sprained

still though
i laughed about the experience
as i proudly told the story
to any who would listen
most thought i was foolish
i giggled

until one day
i told the story
to a wise old preacher man
and thought for a moment
he truly understood

said he
"hanging out with younsters
keeps us young."
i smiled at that
proudly and broadly
(he allowed me to enjoy the moment)

then with a twinkle in his eye
he continued
"but trying to keep up with 'em
is what makes us old."

i sigh again
as i retell this story
a precious memory
a trinket of wisdom

and then i allow
a broad smile
and a giggle