The little boy sneaked into the orchard and scrambled up the tall cherry tree.
The branches poked him in the ribs.
The wind buffeted him.
Up he climbed, undaunted, toward the ripest cherries.
The boy lay sprawled on the grass, gazing at the victorious cherries, so high, so distant…
PS: This is my answer to my own challenge: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/04/07/writing-challenge-fifty/
Image: (c) Jean Bradbury