Brachiation

"Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp,

or what's a heaven for?"

Robert Browning

                              From branch
to branch
                 and on to vine,
                        from vine     to vine     on down    the line
and then to branch again,        to swing
                and sway with grace      from limb     
         to limb:
it's this I miss when in the hall
I walk from end to end and all
that I can do is walk, not swing:
there are no bars from which to limb-
erly sashay and sway along.
Is it because our arms aren't strong
that we neglect to hang such rails?
Is it the length the swing entails?
But practice would make stronger arms
and maybe even longer arms.
Perhaps to grow prehensile tails
                   like spider monkey as he sails
                                      from hand          to foot
                                                                            to tail
                       to hand
to foot is what we're missing, and
to mark some lanes, so those who want
to swing won't crash with those who jaunt,
and sporting satchels as we swing,
to hold those things we need to bring.
To my mind, we must act with haste!
I feel my muscles go to waste
each time I venture down the hall.
But, do palms have the wherewithal
to callus around like clocks' ticks?
Would that tail sprout from my coccyx?
Would my spine find relief someday
from all those popping vertebrae?
It may be that I'll never know.
The reach above my head grows, though:
imagination is my fate
until I
             grasp
                                              to brachiate.