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There was nothing more than an acorn that fell from the wing of the tree,

And time began to repeat itself once again.

Comforted by the cozy lightness of the succulent grass,

Seeming nearly as tall as the baring tree,

The acorn’s place in the future of the landscape had quietly begun.

Time was the acorn’s challenge.

To germinate in the face of the hoof of the cow that submerced its shell into the earth,

Or to delicately dream until it can mature the nibbling

lips of an inquiring fawn?

The wing of the tree provides food, shelter thought, and promise.

For us all.

The life of a new oak tree has began once again,

As the acorn met its challenge.