En pointe

I feel like a Christmas Tree, a Scotch pine balancing sideways on the point of a mountain.

Slightly off balance.

My roots cut off.

Every bit of wind leaves me quivering and quaking, literally shivering.

Like something bad is going to happen when I least expect it

Which is comforting, because I am expecting it any moment, so maybe it won't happen.

I imagine myself with lights and ornaments and maybe even tinsel

But it would blow off, or fall off, or be destroyed in some way up here

That's the point I suppose.

I am balanced. I'm not actually falling off

But I am not en pointe.