Root

Say you're a dog Walking through a park with a stick And all the other dogs turn to you Like there aren't enough sticks Lying around. They need Yours. There is nothing like Yours. They nip and snap As you walk on, trying to keep The peace till your tired jaw stops Panting and you turn to go home. The park trees sway like tired dancers To the howls and hymns Of adolescent barking And all you can stand to watch Is the ground passing under your feet As you promise yourself You will plant a tree Near a place that you call home, Where hunger will never find you, Where thieves will not disband you, And you will learn to climb it As it grows.