I start my life hidden, asleep in the ground, With water and sunlight, my strength is unbound. I grow without walking, and reach for the sky. What am I, rooted, but rising up high?

I stretch through space, yet hold things tight, a cosmic spiral of distant light.

Appearing with the tide, Disappearing under a wave. One day here, thr next day gone. Some people collect me, Others throw me back to sea.

Powered by the swirling air, my arms spin slowly upon my face. Their motion makes my gut churn, And in turn, people use that to crush.

This’ll be wild. This’ll be milk. This’ll be prickled. This’ll seed, like silk. This’ll be Scottish. This’ll be a bee stop. This’ll feed finches. This’ll purple-pink top.