the long ladders

I have memories of these
ladders.
these long extension metal
things
that I climbed
one boot after the other
up the sides of buildings
in the wind
in rain.
thirty two feet skyward,
forty feet.
some fell,
some crashed to the side,
some I tumbled from
when careless and hurried
trying to win a clock that
beat inside.
so many days I pulled
on the braided ropes
raising
the rungs higher and
higher
to get to the highest
point,
then carried buckets
and brushes, tools
to the top
where a bird's nest might
be, where
bats might hang by their
clawed feet.
I climbed into the sky
closer to the clouds,
to the sun,
to a place I knew so well
when I was young.