The end of an Acorn

An acorn falls, in a crowded wood

mixed with spring air and April showers

A young oak tree starts to form, from seed to sapling

Photosynthesis and hardship combine

With growth and struggles learned

But still the sapling grows, uncertain, yet expected.

A forest filled with trees, all growing like each other

There’s those that flourish and those that suffer

Your nearest neighbor, against yourself you measure

Some bend some break, but most remain

Upstanding, sure, with steady growth

Your poor young sapling, dwarfed by giants

One day you find, that sapling’s grown

With weathered bark and healthy core

No more a sapling, still moving fast

A tree develops with thoughts invincible

The roots give strength, they’ve grown familiar

The tree’s more certain, it feels stronger

Our new tree learns, with speed and trauma,

That strength and size can give sight and notice

A relative measure, more and stronger

The new young saplings aspire, admire

But jealous trees would seek to quash

And rip into the core, no roots no growth, no more.