"One could do worse than be a swinger of birches."
- Birches by Robert Frost

New England, 1700s

Matt couldn't help but laugh.

It was a nervous laugh, the kind that had been creeping up his throat quite frequently given the situation he was in. The trunk beneath Matthew's feet lurched downward, and the boy's grip on the branch he was holding grew even tighter. To his left, he stole a glance at his brother, whose face was scrunched into a look of sheer determination as he daringly jumped up again to bend the malleable tree to the form he wanted. As the birch's trunk continued its journey downwards, Matthew stole a glance at the ground that was coming up faster with every passing second, but still lay below them a good ten feet away. He swallowed, trying to send some saliva to his dry mouth as his nervousness escalated. "Alfred, I'm not sure we should be doing this."

Alfred ignored his brother's comment, distracted by the obstinate bark of the tree. "This one's not as--" He grunted as he repeatedly sent his leg pounding downwards in an attempt to get the tree to comply, "--flexible as the ones I usually play on. It's almost as stubborn as Arthur!" He secured himself by grasping a lone branch, and the boy leaped into the air, finding that once he fell back down, the tree violently bent to his liking, and his brother, caught off guard, momentarily lost his balance; the unsettling feeling of falling prompted the boy to flail wildly, and in his panic, he was lucky to find a stringy twig that saved his life. All this went unnoticed to Alfred, the grin on his face brightening considerably. He confidently looked at his brother, hoping that the younger boy would admire his handiwork as much as he was. "See! These trees bend like that; it's like they're meant to be played on!"

Matthew wasn't so sure, and he was already disconcerted with Alfred's last success in bending the tree. Biting his lip, he gathered the courage to look below his feet again, and although the ground was still creeping steadily closer, he couldn't help but feel that the threat of falling to his death. He meekly shook his head, blonde curls twisting in the motion. "No, Alfred. This isn't fun! We're not supposed to be playing up here!" He turned to face his brother, his vision blurring as he felt tears threaten to roll down his cheeks. "I want to get off, please."

Alfred pouted, his face attempting to show his dissatisfaction but still giving away the concern he held for his brother. Finally, he mumbled, "Fine, I guess we can get off, Matt." Looking at how near the two boys were from the ground, he spoke up again. "Jeez, when I was four, I was climbin' trees even taller than this, you know! And you're already six years old!"

His brother's brows furrowed. "That-- That's not the point! I just want to get off!" After his shout, he joined Alfred in staring at the ground, and for a moment, the identical features the boys shared were displayed in the same annoyed expression the two wore. After a few moments of silence, Matthew realized the predicament he was in. Rotating his neck left and right, the younger boy tried desperately to find a route of escape on the birch tree, but he found that only one solution lay before him if he wanted to get off.

He bit his lip again, and at that moment, as he frantically turned to his brother, he saw that Alfred had comprehended exactly what Matt had discovered, but while Matt was growing increasingly panicked at the circumstances, he was horrified to find that his brother was practically smirking from ear to ear, one eyebrow cocked. The boy chuckled.

"Well, looks like the only way off is to bend this tree to the ground, huh?"

Matt glared, but found that his resolve was as flexible as the birch tree they stood upon. He sighed and braced himself again by holding his spindly branch of security with both hands. "Then hurry it up, will you?" He kept his eyes focused straight ahead, just to avoid that cocky grin his brother had plastered on his face.

He heard Alfred chuckle again. "I can't get you down fast enough if it's just me," he said, and Matt's eyes darted in his direction. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that his brother, although using a tone of condescending arrogance, was entirely serious. The tree had bent as far as Al's strength could get it to, and now he was in need of some support if they were to get it to move again. Matt gulped. Al smiled, a sincere and genuine smile this time. "Looks like I'll be needing your help, Matt."

Matt's lower lip curled under his teeth for the third time, and he could feel his stomach begin to flutter as he pondered his brother's statement. The ground was very close, and he didn't trust Al to keep jumping up and down to get the trunk to budge. Nervousness gripped his senses again, and he tightened his grip on the branch he held, half to curb his anxiety and half to prepare himself. "Alright, I'll help."

Alfred beamed. "Thatta boy, Matt!" He whooped, swinging his arm around to pat his brother on the back in congratulations for his bravery. As his hand met Matthew's shirt, the boy realized too late that it was probably not a good decision. The force of the blow took Matthew by surprise, and as he felt the air expel itself from his lungs, he felt the familiar texture of bark leave his palm too. Suddenly, the leaf-scattered ground was zooming towards his eyes and that feeling of weightlessness gripped at his stomach. The boy let out a frightened shout, turning around mid-air in a last desperate attempt to catch himself, but in that second, he found himself hitting the ground, facing the sky and Alfred left standing on the tree, one arm reaching out towards his brother, eyes wide in panic.

Then Matt watched as the birch heaved upwards in an arc, and he couldn't help but feel a bit of amusement when he heard his brother squeak in surprise at the quick motion, retracting his arm to frantically hug a branch before he too fell off.

Alfred laughed nervously, trying to save face in front of his brother, shouting something along the lines of how fun the ride was and how he was planning to do that in the first place, Matt let the corners of his mouth crawl upward a little, and he propped himself up on his elbow, smiling at the scene of his brother moving to stand on the birch tree a second time, his eyes shining as he relayed his plans to bend the tree again. "And this time we'll make it into a trebuchet! And we can attack Arthur!" Alfred hollered, already jumping and moving the tree downward toward his brother.

Matt couldn't help but laugh.

Ah, what a great AMERICAN poem. ...I guess. It's not my favorite Frost poem, but my teacher talked about how little kids would play on them, as seen in the poem, and I had this sudden urge to try it.

But I live in a land of high elevation and evergreen trees.

THIS HOW CANADA FEELS, HUH?!

Anyway, just a drabble I wrote for buko-koko after I abandoned our RP like a coward.

Hope it helps.

(I noticed that I always have Canada get a dry mouth. CANADA DRY LAWLZ.)

Lame ending is lame. Forgive my fail. Edited as of May 27th; tried to do some weird full-circle stuff, and... um... --Weird hand gestures-- Yeah..