Girders groan in the wind; the building bends,

adapting to its environment,

spire scoring the heavens, but roots in earth:

The future connects to the past, as sky to the ground.

A skeleton of steel or nanotubes

would still be recognized by engineers

in Rome; physics doesn’t change over time.

Girders groan in the wind; the building bends—

Yet the people inside never feel it,

detached from the outside world. Eagles

nest on the roof, hunting rats below; they’re

adapting to the new environment.

Windows serve as solar panels, collect

light to feed the needs of residents; walls 

of plant membrane scrub carbon from the air. 

Spire scoring the heavens, but roots in earth,

No matter how far we ascend, we’re still

bound to our home, our mother’s domicile.

Brick or marble, concrete, glass, or steel—

the future connects to the past, as sky to the ground.