Our roots are ancient, gold and gray, a buried treasure
Laying deep and secretive beneath the sunlit world.
My curling root grasps the woody starch of yours:
I can hear you, and the echoes of the animals and stars
Roosting and high in your broad-leafed canopy.
Our invisible links, a hand in hand network, echo
To the furthest reaches of our wet and fertile home.
And because we stand together, each of us--
The maples of Canada, and the baobabs of Mali
Can hear the distant murmur of a rainforest's heart.
We stand together: they cannot destroy us.