Sheltering my, hand to brow, face and eyes
the leaves connect in their ceiling,
their luscious canopy, a word I adore,
of greenery,
the underfoot my crawlies, bush
and soil, grubs and I,
milling and spilling across the land
in our vehicles for travel (feet, claw,
sucker).

This roof nay endless, never said
it was nor expected, for trees
cannot sustain against urban slaughter
but for this time,
I pray for my roof,
I tend to my covering and pray again,
that I am contained.