High atop his branch he clings,
a fretful, fidgety fellow~
September’s here (allegedly),
but Texas still screams yellow.
He peers down at the dusty ground,
no pumpkins, no autumnal spice, nor chill;
no brisk breeze swirling through the oaks,
just heat that just sits still.
“Oh fall, wherefore art thou?” the acorn cries,
dramatic as can be~
“I’m meant to drop with dignity,
not roast upon this tree!”
He wiggles, scoots, and shimmies,
but the branch won’t let him go.
“I’m ready for my autumn arc~
this summer’s just for show.”
So there he waits, impatient,
a tiny acorn with dramatic flair,
dreaming of the day he falls
into cool, crisp autumn air.
Perched on top the telephone
pole, a cavity carved out there,
a family of Woodpeckers lives
on Prosperity Lane, a lightly
traveled country road. Here
one is blessed to see
black and white patterns
against a blue sky as these
birds fly between poles and
tree limbs in the delight of
an April breeze.
Their call is something akin to
a chuckle, a childish delight,
for surely they own this lovely
green land, lawn stretching
far out, dotted with dandelions
and blackberry vines.
On any given day one who walks
this county lane can hear the
drumming of these clever birds,
living alongside the Mountain
Bluebird, Quail and Wild Turkey.
They drum to annonce their
territorial claim.
As in Gold Rush days these birds
have their golden reward of
acorns which they bury in pantries
of trees, poles and fallen logs.
Once again, the drilling is heard
as we walk through these Northern
California woods. Look closely
at the Ponderosa Pine. You will
find it studded with acorns. The
Acorn Woodpecker, ever industrious,
is satisfied that his is the best
of all worlds.
an acorn fell
bounced up six inches....
breeze through red oak tree
There was a dusting of snow in North Carolina…
where our first great granddaughter is due to arrive any day.
and as we wait down here in Florida
for that call or text to come our way.
and this time in limbo seems to move little slow
I started thinking how our great granddaughter-to-be
is like an acorn in the snow
How that baby, like an acorn, starts out no bigger than a pea
and will grow into a beautiful fruit upon our family tree.
How she needs to be planted with care
and nurtured…for her roots to firmly take hold
if she is ever to enjoy the colors of Autumn, the flowers of spring
the summer heat and winter cold.
How from the time she peeks her head out…
just like that acorn in the snow
she will always need patience, love and caring…
however tall she grows…
And even though she’s not here yet…
and her first word has not yet been said…
as I sit here awaiting her arrival
my mind has moved ahead…
years into the future…when we’ll wonder…
where did the time go
as we remember back to that moment
when she was no bigger…
than an acorn in the snow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
sunlight
glistening
through maple trees
squirrels search for acorns
brightness
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A vagrant squirrel navigates his kingdom of cracked asphalt~
Sudden rain slicked the park bench's peeling green paint
as he rattled past, king of his grocery cart chariot ~
overflowing hull crammed with glossy brown treasure,
each nut a testament to frantic, twitching hoarding.
His beady eye judged a passing Labrador's indifference:
Fool! Winter's coming, and my cart's already paid for.
THE FAMOUS ACORN HEIST OF ‘23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There once was a squirrel named Hank,
Who rode on a Harley, quite swank.
To the food bank he quickly sped,
With a heist planned in his head,
For acorns, he thought he could prank.
He zoomed past the trees with a whoop and cheer.
His goggles and scarf made it most clear.
He burst through the door with a grin.
“Just a snack for my ride, no break in.
Not to worry. I won’t harm you. Have no fear.”
Ahh, but the food bank staff were quite astute
They were wise to his ridiculous, nutty pursuit.
The joke was on our furry friend,
For the food bank, they send,
Hank home with a bag of healthy fruit!
silent oak tree sentinel guards my yard
I call him Old Mister
he drops acorns that try to grow new oak trees
they land in a cinder piles, planting themselves
In a few weeks tiny oak leaves form.
If you gently pull them out of the cinders
You will see a tiny oak tree growing out of an acorn.
I pulled twenty of them one day and took them to Sunday School
Giving them to children who were almost as amazed as I was.
"An acorn grows to a mighty oak" -
words, once, my grandpa spoke
when I was small.
What dear Grandpa forgot to say,
long ago, on that happy day,
is, "Every oak must fall".
As I was headed home, a squirrel
Passed me going south.
I noticed him because he had
An acorn in his mouth.
Since winter’s not approaching,
I am curious to know
If squirrels still amass a stash
For when supplies run low.
Or was that nut for dinner
From his daily market run?
Or a late addition to a meal
His family’d just begun?
I have no way to ascertain
What’s stored within his nest
So, like many other mysteries,
I’ll give this one a rest.
Acorn hair please the squirrel said as she scooted into the chair
Same color or shape or both? Asked the beautician named Mare.
Whatever you can do, but it has to be done exactly right.
Because at six o’clock I am eloping, this very night.
So, Mare did her best, and the squirrel was pleased in all ways.
You have a great night, she said. This is one of my best days!
She invited Mare to be her bridesmaid that evening too.
But alas, Mare and her family had something else to do.
acorn in its mouth
squirrel pauses in his stride
unusually warm
still the leaves have fallen down
shrugs his shoulders, soldiers on
11/8/2022
oh little acorn so small an odd , fallen but not forgotten , from seed to majestic oak, oh little acorn how youve grown.
oh little acorn so odd indeed , matured , and mighty , and strong, with leaves a plenty , from branch to branch ,they go on and on.
oh little acorn , now a tree beaming with vibrant life , home to many creatures , birds nesting and squirrel alike oh little acorn from tiny to ton.
oh little acorn , time has passed and now your roots have flourished, and found there place, blooming with renewal of hope and strength , oh little acorn now a pillar of grace.
oh little acorn ever so bountiful and beautiful , speckled with greens and golds , oh little acorn , fruitful, still odd , now little acorn , life has become full circle , and once so small and odd no longer little acorn anymore
I kicked an acorn down the road as I often do,
to see how far it would roll, but unlike most,
which quickly veer left or over the center,
this one kept going and didn't stop -
until it rested far down the street,
seemingly waiting to be nudged once more.
So, I swept it out and down the hill thinking,
"You go little guy"!
Just then, a truck rumbled up the hill
and crushed it.
When I got to where it lay, I said, "Sorry buddy"!
Afterwards I thought that most have probably
had a private conversation with nature but,
how many have apologized to an acorn?
Acorn boy,! Run! Run!
Watching him go is so much fun!
They run after him from one to two.
He is still running though he’s lost his shoe.
Acorn boy,! Run! Run!
You are gaining speed on everyone.
They run after him from two to three.
Come over here acorn boy, run past me!
Acorn boy,! Run! Run!
You are in the hottest daily sun!
You’ll get a burn, you’ll get a tan.
Run acorn boy; they have a pan!
Acorn boy! Run! Run!
You are the best of the best, ask anyone.
On a skateboard now, I see.
Skating past every single car and tree!
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