The ship is the plow
We cut our course through stars
Reflecting upon ocean floors.
We steady ourselves in the crow’s nest
Hand in hand,
Seeing how far we can sail
Before this old ship gives way beneath us.
We all return to Mother
Become food for the seas, birds, bees,
But we are the plow
And we cut our course
Leaving behind rows of trees
In rich soil made from you and me.