The Clown in the Tree

My Tree

At my childhood home, I had a favorite tree. It stood right outside my bedroom window. It wasn't large, but it gave good shade, and had one nice branch to sit on. We lived on a typical South Florida street of flat, pastel houses with well-water stains; of dry, skinny palm trees and sharp cactus plants, and brittle driveways that tore up the knees. My tree, as I'd stare up into its dark, cool leaves, was my own secret world of enchantment...