Woodenly,

like a two-dimensional figure

in a renaissance painting,

she climbs,

flattening herself

paper-like against

bough, branch,

trunk, leaf,

air. She has not

lifted her skirts

but she was moved

to this endeavor

urgently, and now

as ripening’s witness,

embraced

the smooth-barked trunk

surprising herself

at her nimbleness

and agility when

skirts can seem such

suctioning anchors

unless fruit beckons

beyond a ground-bound

woman’s reach.