Upon Waking

I trust the tender bow of the branch that bends as I walk out on a limb. Life has brought me here again and again. And as the tensile strength gives way to the ethers, it's time for me to leap. The squirrel has no worry of landing. She just flies with buoyant continuity on to her next destination. As if electric impulse, jumping from synapse to synapse, I am now in the business of myelinating the channels of grace and potency. I still have plenty of leaps left in me.