It is a minature;
     inside you see the tree,
         so short hundreds of years
             of pushing through a canopy.

                                           Take a seed;
falling through the branches
in a storm, a wind, fall
down, a bouncing
limb by limb
to rest

from the drop
from blue scattered above it
to the green settled dampness
to the brown clay luscious below it.

                       Suppose its sentence
                is to bloom forth & grow
       & make a family of infant trees
not seen these parts while camping.

Ah!