We're here to prove the hole
dug deep enough will surface

among Chinese. That's where a hole
in our world goes.

But noon finds us in it
only to our knees, pick and spade

checked by hard-packed clay.
We don't mind the sweat

and no one wants to quit—
nothing to do

with where we want to get.
We've got all summer

or at least today.
We're in it for the ruckus

of jumping down and falling,
falling till falling

starts to slow and, suspended there,
we see both openings above us.

the apple
seed sprouting—
all ways out