Around a branch, pulling,

Around a branch, pulling,

Bending it low, feeling its resistance

So many times in bygones

I may have wondered

If it would be safe to keep walking

Taking my chances on a towpath

Faced by two or three barefoot loutish brutes

Sporting black singlets and beach shorts

Lynchings would never happen now

Not here, in this backwater

Where the high wage earners come to play

The boats in the marina testified to that,

Perhaps they were wont to build a swing

Which seemed a mite unlikely

Until I saw the wicker basket chair

And a young woman adjusting a tripod,

I remember falling out of a tree

Breaking my elbow in a forked branch

Withholding my tears until

I was out of sight of the two girls

The leaves fell as I did

Although with more artistry

And less urgency,

How many times I did climb

Before I fell

Not too many times after,

It was a photo opportunity

The boats in the Marina lending

A Mediterranean elan

To a genteel Queensland suburb

I wondered what it was they might be selling,

The view or the chair?

I imagined the spring of the branch

The mischief in the tree

A puckish sprite

An ugly splinter of branch from trunk

As the chair was swung too far

Like a Witches’ dunking seat

Damned if you do and damned if you don’t

So many stupid outcomes

From whence did the idea come

That it would be a true test of faith

To tie someone down

Whilst entreating them to escape,

As if by magic

I implore you to condemn yourself

Or die in the process,

There was a woman in a van wearing white chiffon

She was translucent

As she smiled somewhat shyly

And I thought

Yes, the picture might be worth the trouble

If only the light and the knots hold out.