Acorn poem

An Acorn…

Meager it seems, until it births a tree;

But more miraculous…

…it births a memory


The ecstasy of fall in a lowly nut on the ground,

scenes of fall frolicking lie in my heart shelled and bound.

So as jealous squirrels peer from afar,

I hold the seed and crack open my heart.


The acorn turned baseball connects with a stick turned bat,

I remember taking the series in October in a weathered O’s hat.

Or slingshot in hand, a grizzly did I hunt,

with oak ammunition, all before lunch.


Fall in a nutshell (pun fully intended,)

just a simple acorn, lets a stressed heart be mended.

Return as I will, to the days of my past,

full of pumpkins and scarecrows,

and pigskin flying fast


What lies shelled up in our lives day to day?

The many memories we bear of imagination and play,

Live not in the past, the present is too rich,

but don’t let memories stay shelled up, rolled away in a ditch.


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