The Last Acorn
My oak tree is budding
Early in the time of spring
And when those buds grow big
An acorn is what it brings
As an acorn, I hang high
Looking down upon the land below
At times I often wonder
Will I be an oak tree when I grow?
Or will I be the nourishment
To the those that live in the trees
Such as birds, possums, squirrels
And animals such as these
Or will I be a home for
a weevil larvae inside
Sleeping till I hit the ground
Waking up from this wild ride
One by one, I watch all of
my family members fall
Nows there's not many acorns
Not many left up here at all
And now for the very first time
ever since I the day was born
I have begun to wonder
Will I be the last acorn?
4/26/2020
Copyright © Mary Taylor | Year Posted 2020
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