Mirrored glass water I see myself high up in this tree.
Your smile bright as the rocks, way down there where you sit.
Fish look up too.
Rope hung so high on cypress where I've climbed, I hadn't before seen everyone watching too.
I'm not scared. At least they can't tell. Nor you, I think.
Or can't anyone see this worn out rope?
Rungs made of cut lumber at my head, heading up. A new way.
I don't trust that rope, but I trust my hands.
Very much higher I climb, more gasps from below.
Every floater watches me high, blue sky and Baldy at my back.
River crystal green below, I step off and down I go.
