Reaching down, she scooped up a handful of the deep dark soil
Old smells of peat and fertilizer mingled with aromas of earth and moisture
Overhead, the sun poured light down, saturating the field
The seeds there were snuggling underneath their cozy brown blanket
So many people wondered why she chose to be a farmer, but this was where she had her…
Tag Archives: roots
Pillow (an acrostic poem)
Plowing and sowing the world of sleep
It was hard work, but he was a farmer to his soul
Little furrows stretched to the horizon containing the roots of fertile dreams and scream-inducing nightmares
Lying there, waiting to be harvested
Once he was ready and picked them, Morbius would pay him handsomely for this crop
Wait till the slumbering humans were served these delectables!
Moss (an acrostic poem)
Maybe the rolling stone wasn’t that great after all
Only by finding a quiet, still place can you put down some roots
Soul-nourishing peace grounding away the pent-up anxious energy
Soaking in patience waiting for the right stone to come
Roots (an acrostic poem)
Reaching down to find your center
Obtaining nutrients from the fertile soil around you
Organizing and grounding in your immediate world
Though you sway in the winds of change
Serenity is yours because your anchors run deep
Image: cff2.earth.com/uploads/2018/12/26100659/How-plants-alter-their-roots-to-adjust-to-soil-moisture–730×410.jpg
Journey (an acrostic poem)
Jamming on her brakes, Salama looked to her left where she saw whitewater far below
Oddly the sound reminded her of the ocean, but more chaotic, capturing the wildness it passed through
Under normal circumstances, she would want to continue the climb to the top
Reality the water called to her spirit so she began to descend
Navigating downward on tree roots and small rock outcrops she got closer to her goal
Eventually dipping her toes into that white foam and the crisp water underneath.
Yet that water was too cold to do more, so she climbed back up with a satisfied grin
Images: aroadventures.com/images/slider_hudson/1%20narrows2.jpeg
Kilt (an acrostic poem)
Knees are not the only things left open to the wind
Iain strike a pose, daring the world to comment
Loving his Scottish roots
Tartan waving bravely in defiance
Image: scotweb-objects.com/images/landing/kilts/outfit_1w_1h.jpg