Out On A Limb
by J.C. Montgomery
With each gust, I am shaken. Not roughly mind you, but just enough to remind me that my tenuous hold upon this branch grows weaker with each passing hour. I am scared. I want down. Why can no one hear my cries for help?
Below me, children scamper amidst the leaf piles. Their father has worked all morning to gather up the debris, and if the wind were not enough to undo all his hard work, he now has to contend with the possibility of a careless tumble undoing hours of persistent raking. Why can they not hear me?
Usually I am quite fond of my solitude. On any given day you can find me curled up on the couch, or entrenched firmly between king sized pillows, always alone, and always happy. I rarely venture out of my self-imposed cocoon, but today was the first sunny day we’ve had since the last snow. Why did I do it? Why?
I was sitting by the window, warming myself with memories of summer when I saw them. They were sitting on a branch not far from where I am now. It was a whim I could not control. They scattered when they spied me coming, taunting me as they fled. And now, I’m here, alone and unsure of what to do next. What was I thinking? How did I manage?
Someone help me, please. I try to say it loudly, hoping someone can hear.
Please hear me. Please save me. Please!