Stopping to look, really look
I discovered a treasure
Something so small
It only fits in between two fingers
Laying upon the ground
A small twig with three browned and curling leaves
A seed attached
To this wee’ bit of organics
Stem, leaves, & seed
Broken off & left unsung
But somehow not yet dust
Beside it lay half of an acorn shell
Like a traveling cup – my acorn cup
A shell from the mighty oak tree
Dispersing its wares
Even for me