the firmament calls forth delicate bubbles from deep beneath the soil
under my feet, pine tree roots
further below, the fountain gone stagnant

glimmering spheres moving through air compliment the evergreen needles
unavoidable bursts of rot, exuded from that which grows beside the fountain
in a swampy green place, mother of the pines

eternal life giver, balancing this forest upon it’s ancient branches
with every step, a wobble
with every misstep, another burst

to which i inhale my worst of days, and live from those days onward