that swell and expand and reach down.
The soil can be hard, dry, brittle, or moist.
The roots can still penetrate deep.
The roots are so white, with hairs feather-fine.
They are pure, crisp, and light in their form.
Easy to tear, in numbers they hold
the plant in its upright unfolding.
I'm putting up vines, they are growing, expanding!
Deep green, how they twist and wrap tight.
Creaking and groaning, writhing and moaning,
they sigh at the weight that they hold.
Wring and they'll rain tears.
Cut and they'll bleed.
Chop and the vines downward fall.
But deeper the roots grow, reaching for water,
and outward they'll sneak, sideways climb.
One day, post rainfall, one day, warm sun.
I'll be a vine once again.