"The Ladder": Some Kind of Story, Part Five

She stood with two feet barely

Balancing on the knobby, uneven roots

Of the skyscraper of a maple in her backyard

Her eyes drew a line

From trunk to tip

Where green fades into blue

So many branches,

And she’d never been very good

At making decisions

He offered his hand to help her

Up to the thick, stable arm just above her fingertips

“I can do it myself,” she countered.

But he said, “Yes you can,

But you don’t need to.”