Giants herd in metal skins.
         We sit within in a multitude of colors and forms.
             Is this our conscious of being?
           Grazing on hard gray ground,
          on our daily trek to be swallowed by cold buildings.
        Have we become more robot than animal?
        Hunting for green paper, barter for our harvest .
        Where is the fragrant brown earth tilled?
        I would lie in it and dream.