All through the days and nights, hundreds of acorn-bullets pelt
our deck (rap-rap-rap, POP, PING, rap-rap, POP-POP-POP), spinning and rolling
like wobbly little ova before coming to rest on the weathered boards. A curious potential for new life lies
within each woody, capped shell: the mystery of a mighty oak in encapsulated greatness.
We call this phenomenon dormancy, as if a group of letters
(a word like dormant) can capture the reality of seed-life as it awaits
germination. How easily we overlook
the magnitude of the acorn’s gift: transformation into a giant, towering oak tree!
Gifted acorns.
Hard-shelled seeds awaiting spring.
Gifted humans.
Flesh-covered souls awaiting eternity.
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