Space. The endless roll of green on green
The endless blue, the turning, softly
Of the leaves, and the spears of grass
In ropes of shade and turns of light
The soil gives life, and leaves it, leafless
Grey roots buried deep and dying
Worming spears shear underground
Green land, homeland, the land itself
So green on green and black on brown
Of lizard tail and hanging tendril
Lit with wings of tiny souls
And fallen, risen, born anew,
The dent of human presence presses
Hard on the fur of the underleaf
Where the fragile land of the floating spider
Where the outstretched arms of the blooming trees
Embrace this selfsame holy human air.