Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly
Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam,
Acquire the air.
Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.
Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles,
The leafy bedding,
Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,
Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
The mushrooms are getting stronger: the  “soft fists”  from four lines ago have  become hammers and rams. 
 
 This links back to the quietly growing mushrooms of the  first stanza with fists mutating into battering rams. ps 

Mushrooms