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.

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*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.