Shooting pillar and stem,
A silhouetting millennium
Against the windy tide.
Keeping the words abide.

Notice the stringy leaflets
And their supporting branches
In the green windy flight
As they swerve and fight.

Short live our roots
Who is in need of wet feet
As they bare sappy fruit
When hunting unworldly goods.
We may find in words food
But the conscious is Man’s only gold.