take the time to feed the squirrels the apoplectic streams of the worming
the glasnost spirits scream in the hidden dell the shift frisk of the vigilant against dry bark
they must expose the dormant quantum fabric larvae fishers of seeds under the feet
germanium digging races of varied skin from the fold with the tactile senses of Past Masters
praying at the Dawn they know the rotation of Earth gives meter to their vulnerable thoughts
embarrassment of youth repeat of quivering digs into autumn soil
the sacred trees that bore the wombs of pestilence and disease are made into bows of Creator
loosing spines into the slow mind of third plane