"Cuttings"
Sticks-in-a-drowse droop over sugary loam,
Their intricate stem-fur dries;
But still the delicate slips keep coaxing up water;
The small cells bulge;
One nub of growth
Nudges a sand crumb loose,
Pokes through a musty sheath
It's pale tendrilous horn
-Theodore Roethke
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