the urge

At what age
are we supposed
to lose the urge

to climb,
to scale walls,
to dangle from tree limbs?

At what age
are we supposed
to lose the urge

to use our bodies
for what they are able to do?

Why must we fight
the temptation of the
perfection of a tree’s
gnarled bark and branches
when our hands and feet
are strong enough to lift
us up there, among the
leaves and birds and squirrels and sky?

At twenty-five,
I haven’t lost that
urge yet and I don’t
think I ever will

and only when
my joints creak
in defiance

and my bones
become too brittle
to weather a fall

will I have the will
to fight the urge
at all.

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