The Oak In the Acorn

the acorn in the oak bark bone fingers crusted brown waving sinew, shedding sky tap root summon’d deeply down sighs like summer sound in rain building up then down the shade sunlight filters dappled beams stormwinds wild up the glade growth rings tell of time and fire knots hold moments, seasons pass thunderhead now roaring branches whirlwind leaves in leaning grass now black clouds spill heavy ink first a smatter, soon much more trunk soaked humid, lichen slick ozone bite, ionic pour for a moment pause creation flash the static, crash the drum rock the heavens, cloak the sun clouds bursting out electric thrum flashing pulse and threading sap plasma blaze down wooded stroke crack the mighty, split the bole greenfather fallen low and broke spent the clouded day turns blue as from a storm new days are born and next to ragged roots and grounded trunk the oak waits quiet in the acorn...