Stopping to look, really look,
I discovered a treasure—
Something so small
It only fits in between two fingers.
 
Lying on the ground
A tiny twig of three
Browned and curling leaves
And one lone seed attached
To this wee’ bit of organics.
 
Stem, leaves, and seed
Broken away and left unsung
Fallen
But somehow—not yet dust!
 
Beside it, lay half of an acorn nut
Like a traveling ship—my acorn cup.
A shell from the mighty oak tree
Dispersing its wares—
Even to me.