it starts life so small, so hopeless
it gets stolen, taken by a squirrel
that never wants to let it go

winter comes around, the cold
is nearing with intensity, acorn's not safe
so it needs to be buried, so deep
that the squirrel will never find it
again

the years of its submergence
breed questions so curious:
"why do i see nothing but darkness?"
but it knew nothing of its immensity

the years roll, roll, roll, on
and they go, like squirrels through
acorns, except the trees
the acorn's own species, has existed for
far longer, and would, perhaps,
for way longer squirrels would need them

the acorn is now the biggest tree
in the forest, and the squirrels 
great-great-great-great grandchildren
sit upon it without knowing

nature had a funny way
of working sometimes