Liquid seeping through the ground
And the life that sprouts is but
A tiny strand of green and white;
A root hugs the earth, a new leaf
Fixes face toward space and time
Azure now, then gray and windy
And when some dogs bark, a spine
Quivers gently a consciousness.

One branch now then another
Each with effort on its own way
Gaunt and birch, naked alone
Or crisscrossing as a foliage
To the rustle of a restless world.
A unity varies with the growing
And stalks depart as seasons lash
Through dark and light where fragile sprouts
Are no more certain than as before.

- Isnani