Greetings, @d-pend

is there something missing in these verses? a typo? just purposefully mixed up syntax?
I feel i'm misreading something.

humble the with spined confidence
all orphans carry

Anyways,
This poem made me think about some seemingly unrelated issues. On the one hand, the literal ode to trees and vegetation in general in times of change (the transition from fall to winter) and all the mingling and intermingling of colors and foliage.

On the other hand, in the context of thanksgiving celebration and all the historic issues associated with it and the more recent border issues that threaten to alter the Christmassy peace, I sense certain nostalgia for a more diverse state of being, less threatened by homogenizing impositions.

It speaks of falling worlds, whose roots carry the germ for conflicts

Adopting the husks of other places
as new-old carpaces,

I pictured here the origins of the USA as Europeans, Africans and Indians mingled, adopting customs and traditions to build a shell of national identity that no matter the homogenizing efforts still shows traces of their distinctive origins and once in a while, just like tress fight for sun light and room, break the enclosure of sameness and branch off.

Time, blood, sweat, invention and ambition gave birth to a developed nation that promised milk and honey, but built “ridges of steel promise” and “layered tiers of trial”.

There is still beauty and potential in a forged union that contains diversity unimaginable, but there are also borders and divisions that, even though can make nice landscapes of clearly demarcated colors and shapes, mar the spirit of that promised land of opportunities.