They are the seeds of our green fringe-
The pine trees, slivers of essence
They are winged micros
Pared elliptical spirals into here:
The square concrete and steel of human nests.
They mark another cycle:
Death, renewal, birth and awakening
As their girth grows, ours weakens.
The August sun splits the early evening
As a grey squirrel dashes over the fence
Like an office worker in Adidas trainers
He is all frenetic energy and need.