You might think I’m quite foolish
Hanging from this old oak tree.
Travelers pass me by
And see my goofy grin.
They scoff and they jeer
But they do not understand.
Most would consider it damning
To be strung up by the ankle
And sway in the breeze.
In truth, it was quite miserable at first
Feeling the blood run to my head
To be stuck, out of control.
However, it is quite enlightening
To see the world from the other angle
To see frowns turn to grins
Words on carts
Turn to fascinating new languages
And I never quite admired
The grass I always tread upon
Until it became the sky to which I daydreamed.
Ever passing travelers see
A lame man in a robust tree
A bum, a fool, or otherwise rude things.
Yet I know better
I’d rather the rope be tied about my ankle
than about my neck.
One day, perhaps soon, perhaps not
But one day either a traveler will stop
And cut me loose
Or the branch I hang from
May crack and break
And I’ll come tumbling free.
For now however
I will sway, watching all the people
Enjoying the breeze.