rootboros

Willow root, last hold grips 
The bank mane tresses pebble-
Scoured in asteroids of motes
Hurled in a soup of energy
Grooting and grafting the muds blood
Sifting good nest of minerals
Time's dragon suckles moment tail
It bleeds fire in the post ice flow
As branches storm ripped
Float unanchored in ordered chaos
To find some niche get stuck
Collected to send forth our place mat
Fingers of fiber, life claws
From the shell all eyes and ruby
Silica tail it swishes moon away
In a pattern of dark scales
Unprinting the dimensions by rote
Until the wooden heart shoots green