(Poem #406 on new numbering scheme)
An ancient blueness dwelt beneath the day; and leaves were lifted to the sun and moon without regard for what the earthlings say: those moody trees might fly away so soon. The cool green frog announced her patient tune; a bird or ten sang songs in answer, then; the stones partook with geologic swoon; the clouds were only dreaming it again. Some grasping stars told all the plants that when they dared to push against the ground, arising up heavenward like ghosts in unison; they'd show the world their strength, uncompromising. But plants are slow to act despite their needs. And finally they only hum, just reeds.