in deep night we sleep
but in the depths of soil
worms creep
digging thorough tunnels
through compacted earth
they rock the soil
with muted mirth

in deep night we sleep
but in the depths of soil
worms creep
enjoying the thrills
of miniature
dirt based feats

a mild resonance
skates across a cold electric wire
as a motor guns with
pizzicato combustive fire
the power grid
becomes the motor's lyre

autumn falls
a tire draws
a breath
of fresh
dirt
into its ribbed surface
crunching leaves and sticks
process perfect
roll into
roll unto
another day
another trail
autumn prevails