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.