And still the trees are standing still,
Although the gale upset each crown
And very nearly did fulfil
Its aim of blowing timber down.

And I’m much like those woody plants,
Withstanding every test of time:
The self-important critics’ rants
And “friends” who pelt with mud and slime.

As such, I’m thankful to my roots –
Those organs growing out of view –
Which steady me through fierce disputes
And give me nourishment anew.

Yet I’m not bound to just one place;
My roots extend through all of space.

Photo by Felix Mittermeier on Unsplash

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