Down at root level
amongst pearlite mulch
I am drawing vastly
of rain and air.

Planes make you believe
in forever, elsewhere
as they tremble
above the sere leaf line.

At home in dappled
21st century shade
I feel the gnarl of secateurs
scattered iron chelates.

I want to expose a hazy line
to wound the tissue
green sap wood
with love.

East facing I call
to companion plants
as if we’re home and hosed
with care.


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