I’ve got roots.
They wrap around my toes and tug at my ankles.
They pull me into deep, dark corners that feel like
an October rain. The rocks I’ve hidden in dirt,
they find them. They wrap around their toes and ankles, too. Nothing can get away from my roots.
They hold me, all slender branches and heinous growth.
They hold me against the wind and close to the sky,
pushing - nearly propelling me north.
I would be nothing without my roots.