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Greg McVerry

Our tree now stretches
    a blanket pulled over,
    warming us all.

   Leaves, tired, thirsty
      drained by savage drought
  of human history.
      Unfurling on a new day,
          A new hour.
And while we look up, and bask in
    new light we can never forget
   No root, no tree,
         Silently, underground
     networks worked to make it happen.
 Our roots, absorb our substance
    create chemical connections,
 Deep bond with soil and soul.
    A growing tip, poking at
         crevices, breaking
unmovable stones of time


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