On a wooden swing hanging

From the highest bough

Of his backyard pear tree

We learned to fly at the

Speed of dreams on summer

Afternoons, leaning back

And gripping rusted

Chains and looking far up

Into thick foliage that hid

The dark limbs that held us.

From the tall tree that grew

Small winter pears

I’d fly with him across the

Summers and briefly

Forget for a moment

My parent’s marriage,

The family finances,

My sister’s sickness.

In quick motion sweeping us

Upward, we learned to fly.

Before I knew of fallen fruit

Or how spring winds

Waste pear blossoms,

I knew him. He flew

Unfettered and without

Cares where dreams

Grew slow like winter pears

On the highest branches

To ripen and fall only

In late summer.

Today, under a pear tree

Drooping with fruit

I dreamt him here.