Acorns - Poem by Gloria Kim
I put in seeds today - acorns
from trees in the neighborhood:
black oak, red oak, willow oak, pin oak.
Solid names for solid trees, fifty years and growing.
With the seeds I planted flags
in anonymous squares of nursery dirt:
blue tag, red tag, yellow and green -
coded keys to mark which place, which seeds, lie buried where.
Winter is closing in.
I can feel the first touch of frost:
distance, lassitude, weariness of soul -
markers I have seen before on the path down into loss.
Buried deep, I will be still,
in fearful hibernation,
giving in to the killing frost,
and dormant in darkness, await a chilly spring.
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