I can understand: They pushed so hard
Into the light, reached every root until exertion
swelled into the bloom of life, a hundred new words
hang from every limb for weeks, and then they break
The wind blows, the dry times come, the storms
And the sun, itself, yawns apart, leans back;
What else can be done but decay a little, let the worms
among the fallen leaves, and let the leaves
we lost become the soil we eat, devouring self
And devouring those we welcome as thieves;
From the outside, we are sleeping, that's what they tell
But what no one sees is roots reaching, ever creating
The stonefruits and I look snowstorm still, roots reaching
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