Circumnutation

Nodding around and around
Like Darwin’s bedside tendrils
Of cucumbers exploring

The air as he convalesced,
Noting how circularly
They extended into space,

Their innate search strategy
Having served their ancestors
Well apparently, these lines

Keep questing for their anchors,
Since even mind is allowed
To search algorithmically,

Mind’s own kind of mindlessly.
Once we latch, we’ll grow good things
On our trellises. You’ll see.