Last time, I swear.
There's an oaky pine near the hill, its roots are in the dirt, the dirt is on more dirt, creatures that crawl and burrow, small and large and in-between, and down. I'm on an arm of the tree, on velvet, on bark, on roots through greenery. I do not believe 'off' to be the opposite of 'on,' but rather 'on' come 'round enough to be itself as itself and therefore 'off.'