An acorn drops,
piercing the leafy humus.
Heavy rain in the night
entrenches it
in the soil.
Leaves conceal it
from foraging squirrels,
and wind-sifted sunlight
stirs growth
within and splinters
its protective walls.
Probing, thirsty
roots like drills
burrow for water.
Frail, taut shoots
thrust in the opposite direction
succumbing to the upward pull
toward light—
in it for the long haul.
The trunk grows muscular,
and calluses with bark;
branches terminate in twigs.
Spring buds foliate,
flowers burgeon,
and fructify.
And then
An acorn drops.
Beautiful work, Sonny - not a word spare, excellent imagery; as Ivor says, the full circle lifts it from a good poem to a great & haunting one.
The circle back to the start enhances this fine piece of writing A favourite ploy of the old irsish bards
the imagery and choice of words makes this poem AWESOME =)
Trees are such a beautiful and meaningful subject and you have placed a beautiful seed that will blossom within the mind, Thankyou Love Duncan X
'Muscular', 'callouses', 'burgeoning', 'fructify' - love the last section above all here, Sonny. Lovely poem. Regards, Gina.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I have always loved the mighty oak. I enjoyed your write also!