Vegetation

 O never harm the dreaming world, 
the world of green, the world of leaves, 
but let its million palms unfold 
the adoration of the trees.


It is a love in darkness wrought
obedient to the unseen sun,
longer than memory, a thought
deeper than the graves of time.


The turning spindles of the cells
weave a slow forest over space,
the dance of love, creation,
out of time moves not a leaf,
and out of summer, not a shade.

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