"Fine branch"

Fine branch, fine branch

Wind-breaking you thrust,

Your feet will unseal lodes,

If you stride the sunset,

Fine branch, fine branch

Fine as the age that struts –

Here is the first tatter; brave this

Earth’s last desiccation,

Fine branch, fine branch

Dream of an afternoon fine

Where voyagers of a universe

Travel light on libations

Your root will find. Fine, fine

Your face-furrows, convening as

Scattered tribes of a riven land

To mark the yoke of being

Fine branch, fine branch

Shroud the night, warp the rind

Beneath your tongue – and you’ll sprout

Forests on the arid path of life