My Climb Lacks Grace
My climb lacks grace and practiced ease.
I am a veteran of maples and oaks –
trees with limbs and craggy-barked toe-holds.
Still, the effort isn’t lost.
The distance gained
confirms what could only be guessed at
the odd red fruit, like strawberries,
hangs sweet and ripens most heart-shaped
where deeply hidden.
The moist tropic air stirs
with the promise of a precious harvest.
A frond dips downward.
Across the blue sky
the fear of loving
and the fear of being loved
like two black birds
are on the wing.
Mike Young lives in Washington, DC, with his wife, Missy. They have raised two sons. In addition to working with non-profit organizations to advance racial equity and build communities where children and youth thrive, he enjoys hiking in Rock Creek National Park.
The Ekphrastic Review
Find a writer, artist, or poem, etc. by searching here:
This website uses marketing and tracking technologies. Opting out of this will opt you out of all cookies, except for those needed to run the website. Note that some products may not work as well without tracking cookies.Opt Out of Cookies