My Hope:
the acorn.
Plunged into soil, planted
in everyday dirt.
Clouds, rain, sun, dark, ice, moon, morning,
and underground, a
Thin green feeler,
breaks shell,
probes toward sunlight...
This, the acorn, and then
the feeler, the sapling, sprig, stem, baby-trunk, and
My hope:
the shade cast
from giant leafy branches,
thick-bark arms,
probing toward sunlight,
and
Like whispers or giggles,
sprouting fruit
to wiggle in wind
ripening with sunshine
to snap from twig,
and fall to ground
and turn, then
to smile upon
The acorn.
