on the grey rough ribbon unfolding
and stretching out before us
between lines and lanes and fields
and orchards in a naked bunch
row by row

the green crawled over those naked trunks
as if ashamed of barrenness, but delicate
and all in uniformity, trunk to branch
and branch to tree, and then I felt it
reach toward me

and all my questions fled before
the sight of naked branches, trunks
shrouded green, awaiting Green
no answers did they speak
yet no question remained
remembered, needing answers

and one with myself
we rolled on home.