The Acorn

Shaken by a purple dove
Which, at my coming, fled,
An acorn fell down from above
And hit me on the head.

Before I heard it make a sound,
It ricocheted away
And landed sideways on the ground,
Where motionless it lay.

I didn’t pay it any mind
But kept my thoughts by me
And, walking onward, left behind
The makings of a tree.

I needn’t know how things work out;
I’ve got enough to think about.

Photo by Heather Gill on Unsplash

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