Tree Fort

My Ghost Speaks

Written in 1997

My brother and I took hammers,
piles of wood leftover from Dad’s woodshed,
nails,
tape measures,
and saws.
All were the foundation of our creation,
youth being the age of limitless possibilites
the giant maple tree the object
of our creativity.
We began with nails,
simply pounding lumber against
the flesh of it’s own kin.
Building upwards ten feet,
we placed the first platform,
ascending five feet higher,
the second.
Finally, after house of stretching precariously,
of leaning over ledges at great heights,
of hammers penetrating nails into branches,
our final platform was constructed.
There, thirty feet above the ground,
our childish goal was achieved.
Such satisfaction!
We were invincible up there,
I knew that I was safe in that tree,
not scared by the troubles of my world.
Hours were spent enjoying the view,
reading books that had more
pictures than words,
playing Swiss Family Robinson,

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