Ode to an Acorn

There is just something about those little acorns that drives me nuts! I love them. When I stroll through the woods, instead of enjoying the towering trees adorned in their Autumnal filigree of  brazen reds, bronzes and coppers,    my eyes are scouring the ground, searching for ACORNS.

.

What a happy little nut is the acorn! Why does it appear so jolly? WHY are there acorn images all over my house?!!!

 I feel inspired.....

to honor the ACORN.

Ode to an Acorn

How do I love thee, little acorn?

 Let me count the ways,

I love thee on teapots,

  BOWLS

PLATTERS

and TRAYS

  

 I love thee

Acorn finial,

Inside the potting shed,

 I love thy perky patterned cap

Atop your acorn head.

 

From the artists perspective

the acorn is respected,

(While  walnuts and filberts  are woefully neglected.)

Of all those in the nut world, 

Tis the acorn most adored 

While peanuts and cashews are vehemently ignored!

Indeed little acorn,

all artists sing your praises,

The potter takes his sculpting tool to carve your little faces .

Your image has been cast..
in IRON,

TIN

and WOOD

An even cast in concrete,
you're
  EXCEPTIONALLY
good!

In paint, clay, or stonework,
No nut doth compare.
To the innocent acorn,
 So charming and fair.

And though, to the human,

  Your taste is quite bitter,

Just the mention

of your name,

Makes tree-folk twirp and twitter!

In acorn stews, and muffins too, 

No ordinary nut will do.
Acorn souffle, acorn pie
Acorns piled way up high!!!

For breakfast, supper and afternoon tea,
scouring the grounds neath the old Oak tree,
They gather you acorns three by three
and stash you like gold,
or honey to the bee.

And so, humble nut,

So tried and true

From the depths of my heart...

 I honor you.

(Okay, so it's not Elizabeth Barrett Browning or Shakespeare..... but it's REALLY, REALLY close.)

SMILE

Autumn....Trees...

 Alas, tis AUTUMN.

 

Autumn- the very word breathes of serenity.

Burnished golden and rust, the leaves float softly downward

to rest upon the earth

They are crisp beneath my footsteps.

With tails at full mast, the bushybottom squirrels frantically 

scramble from limb to limb greedily gathering as many green

acorns as they can stuff.

The acorns have emerged by the thousands from the

Grand Ancient Oak.

I think on how many Autumns this stately tree has witnessed and how many generations of fuzzy little tummies

 his acorns have filled.

Sunlight dapples into the shade garden through the newly barren branches of the Mulberry tree.

The last to don her leaves in the Spring.

The first to lose them in the fall. Now she casts a long silhouetted shadow across the lawn of velvety moss.

 

 My desire for an endless summer fades as I inhale the

bittersweet coolness in the air-

and I am smitten-

and quietly at peace with this change of seasons....

just as the good earth seems to be.