Bonding like rose glue, like snagging a glass
of water before it leaps to its death the still small
rise of the holding hands movement. One smile
is a thousand muscles; one living being the seed
from a thousand trees. We were domesticated late.
Some say not at all. But I think they are wrong —
I see a dependency too great for the swift ocean floss
that curls around bare naked toes. I see a stand
for the impressive aspects of a limited morality
that curls the air like a ponytail in Manoa valley.
Behold the seed imported for toxins. Behold the seed
that stalks the sun, child-like rosy hues in flight.
Greater than these and snuggled deep
the thousands within the one.