As I was walking one morning
Under the oaks
The acorns, knowing their time,
Were falling to the ground around me.
I breathed in and out
To hear with a conscious ear
The life that rises and falls with each step.
The early light was not yet full of sun.
It was the turning of the tides; moon
Pulling night towards it; the shore not
Still, as I walked, the acorns kept falling,
For it was the season.