One morning, Meopa awoke with a want; a want
to go tree-climbing. Unable to decide what to wear
she left the house wearing nothing at all.
Of course, she took her cell phone.
Not far away, a huge Moreton Bay Fig overflowed
the garden of a derelict house. She scaled the tree
in a gung-ho manner and perched in the crown
as if she were a small bird or, more plausibly
a plucked emu. Then she straddled a broad limb
as if she were a long-legged, plucked primate.
One of those ‘time has no meaning’ moods which
tend to reside in leafy canopies percolated through
Meopa’s interior and pooled pleasantly in her toes.
Far below her dangling feet, the buttress roots arched
like dinosaur toes. If the tree really were a dinosaur
this was the view a victim might have from its jaws,
she thought and took a picture with her cell phone
for perspective. What might her feet have looked
like an epoch ago? …. splay-toed and calloused?
Or a period ago? .. hairy with a big toe like a thumb?
Or an era ago? ….. tiny and shrew-clawed? Or an eon
ago? … but feet had yet to be invented an eon ago.
A tree top is a chipper spot to sit and whittle cosmic
truths; which she did, possibly for seconds or maybe
for an age (nine minutes according to the cell phone) .
She felt cocooned yet unconfined, but then her thigh
cramped. Time to fly? Certainly not, but time to go.
First though, a selfie to show how high she’d climbed.
Her descent was painstakingly cautious and required
the utilization of many expletives.
When she got home, Meopa decided to get dressed.
So, she sewed her tree-top cosmic truths into a
serviceable haiku and slipped it over her head:
Tree climbing is fun
Tree descending is scary
Cell phones need pockets
It would do.
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