Letters to the Editor

Poem: I Am an Acorn

Born high in the branches

A small acorn, a nut, I’m not,

Who bulks herself with the energy of the Sun

and the water, precious fluid,

bringing nurture, a mother’s love.

Grow, Grow, Grow.


An ushering of encouragement from the wind.

Morning and night rise and fall,

plump with life I release my hold.

Sailing down, down, down.

I hit the ground to I plant myself with the rain

and I kiss the Earth hello.

Taking root in the gentle hum of fertile soil

I fall sleep to the dirt’s lullaby

and awake to find new life

Pushing the dust off my leaves

I reach reach reach

every day for the sun,

our star up above.

Yawn and stretch

it feels good to be alive.


A small acorn with a big future deep inside.

— Julie Whatmough


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