Life Is An Acorn Poem by Juan Olivarez

Life is an acorn, on the forest floor,
Among the dead leaves, and twigs.
It's never a lilly, or a daffodil, always, an oak,
Never an elm, never a pine, always an oak.

Life is a tiny football, that fell from the hands,
Of a storybook giant that bore it, and thousands,
Of its brethren, in a green village,
Of storybook giants that stretch forever.

Life is an acorn, on the forest floor,
Lying among the rotted leaves and twigs.
Life lies inside a shell of impenetrable oaken wood,
Life waits.
Life waits for the heavens to open,
And the release of the amniotic fluid of life.

Life is an acorn, on the forest floor,
Waiting to send it's soul into the Earth,
Waiting, waiting, with a dormant heart,
Life is an acorn lying in the dead leaves.

Life is an acorn on the forest floor,
Swollen with life giving rain,
Pulling nitrogen from the sky and the air,
And at long last, it's soul emerges and seeks,
The warm humid Earth beneath, it's great heart
Beating incessantly now, it's first arms appear.

Such is the miracle of life,
Life on the forest floor.
The miracle of life is everywhere,
Life is an acorn, on the forest floor.

7/1/2018
Alton, Texas