Who impels you to do that?
To push higher, delicate moist and green, toward the sun?
Where did you get the directions?
Are you drawn toward a time not too far off
where the tree that holds you will receive the sun’s nourishment through you?
Where creatures who climb you and perch in you will see a bigger vision?
I’m paying close attention because in me there is a treetop too.
As long as you keep reaching up toward the sun,
life will keep going, and I will keep going, for another day.