If I close my eyes there’s only green;
only the tang of pine and the calculated creaking
of wood as the boy I know lifts himself higher.
We are giants.
But then, all too abruptly, I hear sirens and car exhausts
and mid-noughties hits from a neighbour’s window.
They go from muffled and distant to
Here & Now.
Tree sap sticks to my palm during the descent,
(The conifer overlooks an estate now.
I don’t feel nearly as big.)