series1bk3.4.4

 

My straining fingers stretch out to reach  the peaches, bulging from boughs at tree-top height. You frighten me, pointing out that I lack the stature to catch them in clasping clutch. Yet trees can be climbed! Sublimely disregarding all you say, I'll play games, saddling the grey mare for a fair weather adventure. And do not daunt me by flaunting the taunt that I never learnt to ride. Wide is the range of fancy dress I could (and should) acquire, inspiring colourful behaviour to brave out this lack-lustre life. But trust you to knife me with a failure to notice!      So tell me now, in all this lidless sky,      is any spot too low to be too high?