Red Wood Tree's Poem by James McLain

They're all different, but what really counts is the height.
The sensitivity of that first, second, some times third,
sweet moment of, it is like climbing up into soft, warm,
yet slippery, velvet cloud's.
Which sends crackles of electricity
from the bottom to the top of the giant red wood tree.
Up around the trunk and down again.
Often I will slip in to say hello and stop.
Just so I can feel the green leaves form around me,
and to give myself a moment to best decide how to proceed.
It is then climbing down, that I know, I'm doing the right thing.