It’s a quiet job
being a root.
No one hugs you,
climbs you
or praises your
intricate ways.
Roots work
in the dark.
And it’s hard work
tunnelling,
travelling,
finding nutrition.
But when
the storms come
it’s our fingers
which cling.
When the drought comes
it’s our lips
that drink.
Without us
the ground would crumble.
Without us
life would fall.
Everyone
needs roots.
Steve Turner