Apes Tilting Root Caps

On a planet crawling
With a single species
Of medium-sized ape

That minted all the terms
Used in those three phrases,
It’s hard for anyone

Within the outbreak swarm
To get a perspective
That isn’t as linear

As the tip of one root
In a sprawling forest,
Poking around a bit,

Aware of the signals
Pulsing from the systems
Of fungal exchanges,

But mostly determined
By the immediate
Dirt crammed in front of it.

It’s hardly surprising
That, if someone shoved through
A stone patch a while back,

They’re scarred and pushy still.
The stranglehold’s total
Of the soil of the world,

Considering the whole,
But each sensitive soul
Shouldering obstacles

To food and anchorage
Is fragile and likely
To be selfish to death.