The Devil Of The Picnic Tree

If seen from treetop level
the world is far enough away to kill you
with a fall. Be more careful than the bird.
Let the sky that is low yet as high in its flight still you
with its colours, treeleaf-green, earthen-ware, and the devil
in the wind go by. Trust in the tree you heard;
and you heard it then. It holds me like an arm
in the same limb that holds you; I have been sent to save you
for the climbs that are mine, and it is the world I climb,
and all my pitfall ages, having survived
the devil of the picnic tree. The climbing is nearly over,
but I am assigned to be here to see that you
stay up, go on; else what shall I do with my shadow?
Even the falling shadows are ours from the picnic tree.