We incline slightly to the east, seeking dawn,
Every upward vector pressed by the west wind.
Shadow chilled fissures sustain our
Beards of lichen and moss – a thousand beings
Crawl up and down bark channels
From earth to sky. The spring-legged back kick
Of a katydid’s leap sways a leafed twig
For a moment, then it stills.
Inside the acorn’s dome, even then,
When it was a single force, the unstoppable
Root moved like a finger, like a nose
Scenting a spot to cleave, split the hull
And slowly dove into the darkness of the earth,
Pulling the seed wings up, half-globe hands of a nut
Releasing the dust green scallops
Eager for the sun.
After some hundreds of orbits
We’ve penetrated the obstacles of clouds
And stones, reached the limit imposed
By gravity and the shear of storms. A million
Rootlets search the deep crevices to drink
A fountain surge that’s shooting up to feed
The counter million surfaces of leaves
With mineral soup. The deaths of all we nurture
Spread to form a face that only heaven
Sees - beyond the ken of
Anything but trees.