Under the coastal redwood, I wake once rested, upon a crib of roots, mostly nestled in soil its own child, million composts before mothers two legged hug, before spiders orotund hunted prey, predating sun in her nursery rhyme glow. Blinking winking wind nods assent, blowing boats into underground streams, nutrients coarsely course until storms grapple the freeways of furry bark and exhume roots reach, unanchored to thrust worm toward park sheltered crows. An errant dog off leash shares my June, nothing is sniffed becoming something, school nearby says goodbye to it's acorns, eggs, juice box ambassadors, brick guarded pages, crushes and thwarts. Nameless birds call across the neighborhood, cars appropriately pass, exhaustless poison, logoless pegs to their awl. Each with own, inherited in communal oblivion, I find a new station on my radio to dodge the tax of classical fundraising, a drain I've blood supplied season by season in making a giving a melody, my type finger numb yet accurate still.