[Page 1–2]

Some things
do not move.

They make room
for everything else.

 

Root did not stand above the ground.
It lived beneath it.

He was an old oak.

Paths bent around him.
Shade stretched far.

 

[Page 3–4]

Before dawn,
light had not returned.

The forest waited
without leaning forward.

Soil pressed on all sides.

Not heavy—

complete.

 

[Page 5–6]

Mist settled low
between trunks.

Sound stayed near the ground.

An owl hooted once.

Nothing traveled far.

 

[Page 7–8]

Leaves had fallen here
over many years.

They layered
without being counted.

Acorns firm between them.

 

[Page 9–10]

Cold reached the surface.

Frost touched new acorns.

Below it,
the ground held steady.

 

[Page 11–12]

Smaller trees shifted
with the season.

Root did not.

They rested
because he did not.

 

[Page 13–14]

Wind moved the high branches.

Rain changed the river.

 

[Page 15–16]

Root held.

Nothing hurried here.

 

[Page 17–18]

Things stayed longer.

The year slowed.

 

[Page 19–20]

THE TURNING QUIET

The night evened.

The year rested.

 

[Page 21–22]

Branches calmed.
Nothing moved.

 

[Page 23–24]

Inside the great trunk,
the year reflected.

Dense.
Unhurried.

 

[Page 25–26]

Root’s ring closed.

It held what stayed
when everything else passed through.

His year fit—

deep.

 

[Page 27–28]

Root did not change.

The forest did.

 

[Page 29–30]

Above him,
branches thinned.

Beyond him,
space opened.

 

[Page 31–32]

Silver pre-dawn light
waited at the edge.

 

[Page 33–34]

Root did not need
to watch for morning.

 

[Page 35–36]

Morning waited.