
talk to me about roundness,
the gravity where we cluster,
thick skin, soft insides,
held on a single wire.
remind me of change:
sweet to complex,
sharp lines giving to sun,
resting in the quiet wood.
forgive me for bitter edges,
seasons grown wild, distant.
breaking us open,
whole enough to mend.
tell me about anchors,
roots wound together—
rings forged from fire
green against the world.
*29/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day.
**All photos are mine, taken with an Olympus E-M1 MarkII and edited with Lightroom Classic.
This is a beautiful, contemplative poem with rich natural imagery. I especially loved the progression from “roundness” and “change” to “anchors” and “roots”—it feels like a quiet journey toward healing and belonging. The ending leaves a gentle sense of resilience that lingers.
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What a kind comment. Thank you! I’m still feeling a lot of love after spending a few days with my friends. I wanted to capture and hold onto that feeling.
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Love that last stanza, Bridgette. It has hooks. Or wending roots, rather 😉
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Aww. 🍇
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Thank you ❤️
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Your ‘meditative’ poems (as I like to think of them) really make my heart go, “yummy!”
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That makes me so happy! I’m not sure what I’m doing with these, but I’m trying to keep writing as it comes.
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