by Laura J. Bobrow

One day I stood under a very tall tree.
The leaves were so high I could hardly see them, and I’m certain the leaves couldn’t see me.
“Well,” I thought, “I’d like to be higher.”
So I went and got the wheelbarrow, a rickety old box, and a rubber tire.
It took a lot if thinking to get them arranged just right,
And they almost reached to the very first branch … but not quite.
So then I got a telephone book, the watering can and a chair.
And when they were all together, I said to myself, “There.”
I said to myself, with one foot in the barrow,
“I’ll just climb up this tree and go visit a sparrow.”
There’s no trick to balancing on a rickety old box
If you know how to rick when the rickety box rocks.
If Mother could see me, I thought, on this tire,
“Why, where in the world are you going?” she’d inquire.
And I practiced my very most I-Don’t-Care look
As I stood on one hand on the telephone book.
But then, when I got to the watering can,
It wasn’t as easy as when I began.
I had one foot on the handle, and one on the spout,
And I wasn’t afraid. I was looking about.
I waved to the birds. I breathed some air,
And I could have made it up on to the chair,
When along came the breeze,
Which tickled my knees,
And I started to sneeze,
And kerplunk! I fell down as nice as you please.

Which is what is the matter with very tall trees.


Laura J. Bobrow is a versatile storyteller, who occasionally adds poems like this one to her performances. She has served in many varied roles, including festival organizer, conference keynoter, songwriter/lyricist. She currently resides in Leesburg, Virginia. To learn more about Ms. Bobrow, visit her webpage at