Standing outside the law of iron:
scots pines. Still
one-pointed among all that's become,
they stream a shared Earth upwards.
Rooted beyond themselves,
they breathe the migrant wind.
Sky, when it rises
from whatever's got owned,
opens a lattice of branches.
Tips shiver with outreach.
Wings for the journey.
To enact the ritual
of light's life-struggle home –
to acknowledge the ostracised stars.