by Ethel Mortenson Davis
This is the right time
of the year
to be a climber of trees,
trusting only
the youngest
and strongest limbs
with your life,
your cheek resting
on the nook
of a shoulder—
the right time
of the year
for fireball colors.
This is the place
where one can look
back below
to see if mankind
has become a race
of Renaissance men.
Not yet,
the climber says,
not yet.
fourwindowspress 
A poem with a bonus gift. 🙂
Sadly no not yet . Great post.
Wonderful Ethel. I was quite taken by surprise by the ending. Lovely x
Alas, not Renaissance yet….
Ethel, your poetry has a way of being both gentle and powerful at the same time. (And what a beautiful photo!)
Betty’s comments really captures the essence of your writing, Ethel. You caress and stir and even shake the reader a little with your finely crafted poetry. One reads, observes, absorbs, is transported, and never quite the same. Thank you. XO ❤