Tree's Knees

I read somewhere

that in order to grow

to my birthright height

I must plant myself

in a grove of tall trees.

I chose a lush patch

of Giant Sequoias. I

might have made

a mistake - aimed too

high and mighty.

The warning said

never plant myself

in short bushes
or patches of small
trees because

I might

outgrow them

and become a target for

the elements which

will cripple me

and keep me
shriveled

and bent.
Staying short
makes me safe

but doesn't provide
sufficient blackmail
 to eradicate my
claustraphobic
bonzai phobias.
Adapting to survive
unrelenting erosion and
constant battering
by staying small

stifled my future grim --
 so I didn't go there. 

But this lush patch

of Giant Sequoias
 I chose keeps me

 under a shade canopy.

No matter how hard

I stretch to reach the sun

and catch a breath

of the clean air

they inhale

while they talk

and see the vistas

they see  -

I remain nose to nose --

with their knees.

They don't see me

down
            here.