Roots VIII

Jane Smallwood
1 min readJun 11, 2022


Photo by Bruno Pereira on Unsplash

It is your roots that astonish me,
the places underground
that I can’t see.
How your shoots press down
darkly where worms glide like fish.
I can’t see the mystery,
the life that is brewing.
The knowledge of sunlight
coming through pathways
of knowing, of knowing that life
comes from darkness,
from light, and beetles that bore
through perfect tunnels of shade.

You simmer like supper
on a stove under dirt,
with fire burning darkly,
fireworks handed from
the earth’s smelted core.
You move between worlds,
you purveyor of messages,
you blooming rafter of life,
your vines of fortune, still reticent
but so full of hope, of oak tree,
of outsized splendor
that comes from the densely tangled
and unlit world of underneath.
Mycelium dancing, I hear you
mouth your words
to the world overhead.
There’s never a boundary,
never an edge,
only a smooth seam of earth
that belongs to this sky.


Thank you for reading my poem—I’m so grateful! And thank you to the wonderful, fabulous editors, especially Magnolia!, at Move Me Poetry for the opportunity to publish with them. You can read the beautiful poetry being published by MMP here.



Jane Smallwood

Passionate about poetry; mine is a work in progress. I’m an editor who reads a lot, but when I read in my free time, I don’t change a word. Love to paddleboard!