Fall Forage

Fall Forage

You gather the acorn men
Tiny green recruits askew on the concrete steps
With brown tam o' shanters, and one eyed worm holes
Staring at the sky

Head first on the tree trunk, a squirrel sentinel pauses
You totter past through leaves and branches
Clutching your charges
Pinching the Stems
Lining them up just so

I am the new recruit
One, two, three, I count the green ones
Throw away the cracked fellows
Wonder when this game will end

I feel privileged when you place one in my palm
Dusty fingers on my hand, you jabber commands in secret code
And share with me your acorn men.