extracting minerals through soil with my hair
the story of my tree where roots grew from acorn
roots finding their way around obstacles
showing structures to all who dissect me
dead roots die off quickly, whilst other resources
stay alive through winter’s dormant states, until
spring brings joy, leaning towards the sunlight
sculpted by time, chemical-sensing the dangers
spitting out poisons, a revolution
perhaps this is what humans will become
I want it, all of it