How we survive . . .

This nest was painted by Savana oa a recent grandchild visit.

I thought it went well with the Paul Zimmer poem which I have been saving

for months since I recycled some literary periodicals. 

Maybe because of the tree. Sigh.

How We Survive Childhood

Orvil Peacher and I were fifty feet up
In the old oak when he lost his grip
And plunged crashing through branches
Toward certain, terrible damage.
But at the last possible moment
Before his wreck he managed to clutch
A limb and hang on for dear life.

A long time Orvil dangled in silence.
Then slowly he lifted his eyes to peer
Up at me aghast in the canpoy.
In the same daunting voice
He'd used to dare me hight into
That venerable oak, he said,
"I'll bet you can't do that!"

Paul Zimmer

New England Review, Vol. 17, No. 1, 
Winter 1995, page 20.