To want eaglehood is a habit of mind
When you’re voyaging sullen through leaves on the line
But best taken back –
product of the wrong track;
as you watch them in harmony, seeming to breed
Without profit or sepal or interest or seed
Lowlands’ own Air-Triffids, seeming to resent
economic fashions that never quite went
For their certain coming.
If never quite happened,
They remember their slight with their static round cunning,
Systematic when slackened –
The yaws of starfleets obsolescently new
Primed against the dew.
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