In so many ways my roots barely touch the ground. My whole body mass pressing down onto the soles of two small feet. Occasionally the root of my body and spine ease onto a sofa. But night is when most of me touches you. Yet even then I am swaddled. I rarely allow you much time to speak to me. I don’t often listen, to the ancient wisdom that is right here, always keeping me on sturdy ground. Catching me. Holding me when I fall. 

What would I do if the earth gave way beneath my feet? What would I do if my roots were not there. 

You are a base colour and and a bass note, resounding deep and low. I feel your resonance. I respect your dependability. All the ways you draw me in and bring me home. 

C o p y r i g h t © 2025 Kate Fox Robinson

                                                                                                                                                             Image by Herbert Bieser from Pixabay