Supine craggy canopy basking beneath the blue sky,
rests on bent boughs flushed with opulence of foliage.
The mighty oak has seen many misty winters pass by,
but its procreative ebullience hasn’t yet turned senile.
In the nestling cradle of the forfending folds of leaves,
we the furtive acorns flourish like the kernels of love,
the toughened tree has fostered in the trove of time,
deeming us as the touch of feathers birds feel on flight.
The lively clusters filled with latent luxuriance of life,
face the fury of storms, the strike of squirrels and jays.
As I see my flocks fall on fallow land leaving me alone,
I cling to the clasp of the frail stem of future obscure.
Someday soaring gale of promise will gently glide by me,
dislodged, I’ll drift to a distant landscape of sun and rain.
I’ll sprout in sanguine sequence for infinite forest to form,
where on verdant wings will fly the dream of the last acorn.
April 27, 2020
Contest : The Last Acorn
Sponsor : John Lawless
Categories:
forfending, analogy, dream, imagery, tree,
Form: Personification