Rooted
Beneath the horizon
a low-lying vision
stretches before me.
This is where I live now.
Here I am connected
rooted in the lost arts.
Rooted in the mystery
that lies just below view.
Wisdom soaks in
like a blanket in the rain
releasing mist
when the sun bares all.
Roots wind their way down
as buds touch the sky.
Every blossom
is my blossom.
Come dawn
I will rise again
and not feel
so alone.
©2011 Sherrie Lovler