Roots of the Quiet Earth

Beneath the soil, where no eyes peer,

The roots converse without our ear.

No need for speech, no rush, no race,

They move with time, with patient grace.

The trees don’t boast the years they’ve grown,

Their crowns stretch skyward, quiet, alone.

Yet underneath, they touch and feel—

A silent bond, a mutual deal.

We rush to shout, to mark, to prove,

While nature teaches us to move

With stillness, care, and open hand,

To find our place, to understand.

So bend your ear to whisper's birth—

And learn from roots that hold the earth.