I could
put my roots down anywhere,
be there a bird.
Lacking a bird, a tree for potential.

No tree?
then any shrub.

I could make do
with plains of grasses
if I had known, or still might know

Rivers I have loved,
but I could dream underground fountains
if I must.
Shrub, grasses, tree
and river failing,
I could live on rock,
knowing earth's cool history
cultivate lichens, harvest moss;

be ready in all places
to plant my body for time
to reap once more sweet earth, grass, shrub,
tree on plain, mountain,
for bird and all thousands of times again
dissolving into song.