A Higher Branch

I pressed my paws firmly into a deeper groove in the bark, determined to go a little higher than this morning. My back legs found purchase on a weathered shelf of wood, lifting me up to the tree's lowest sturdy branch. Right along the bark rested a patch of pale green lichen and an empty, dried cicada shell clinging tightly. I leaned close, sniffing the papery shell without disturbing it. Sitting up here above the lawn, the yard looked wide and open, with the breeze rustling the leaves overhead.