Acorn interlude

Acorn Interlude

When the oak tree rests,
it’s like an interlude in
nature’s symphony.

A quiet pause between mast 
years when each oak tree drops 
not hundreds, but thousands
of acorns. 

Silent is the plunk, ding,
ping of acorns dropping
onto the neighbor’s metal roof;
the bounce and roll on hard
pavement; the riffling of leaves
and the hard knock, knock of the
acorn as it ricochets from branch
to trunk to branch as it falls.

But like the drop of an acorn
on soft ground, we hadn't noticed.

No, it was the rustle of dry oak
leaves that cling tight in autumn's
chill that whispered change
was upon us.

In the hush between
gusts where we saw,
and understood.

Not every year is a mast year.

There were no acorns under the trees;
no acorns lining the side of the road;
no acorns under foot, pressing into
the soles of our shoes.

Because for oak trees, and humans
alike, there must be space, a
quiet interlude to rest, rejuvenate ...

and when we are ready, to
flourish once again.