Sitting beneath
Spiny green
Fingers reaching
Always reaching
To the sky
You can make a home
Bent grass
And summer winds
Sweeping
Always sweeping
To the ground
Here
Even here
You can make a home
Standing
Where spring showers
Accumulate on outstretched limbs
And fall onto your head
The finches blown by the breeze
Know it all too well
That here,
Even here
You can make a home
With lime green eyes
Searching
Always searching
New opportunity
New growth
Lie in wait
Always a possibility
Here,
Even here
Its the secret
Our ancestors knew
You can make a home
Here
Even here.
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