Every green bit grin rising from flat brown
follows the same joyful split seed eruption-
be it sullen dill or dry basil or wry cilantro,
each patience tests eager hovering potters.
A green man similar shares peculiarities burst
upward although seed is coveted mostly when
a strict hat denies erect red and blue venalities
from a joyful thrust into spread white clouds.
Is it wrong to fuck the sky?