An acorn drops,
piercing the leafy humus.
Heavy rain in the night
entrenches it
in the soil.

Leaves conceal it
from foraging squirrels,
and wind-sifted sunlight
stirs growth
within and splinters
its protective walls.

Probing, thirsty
roots like drills
burrow for water.

Frail, taut shoots
thrust in the opposite direction
succumbing to the upward pull
toward light—
in it for the long haul.

The trunk grows muscular,
and calluses with bark;
branches terminate in twigs.
Spring buds foliate,
flowers burgeon,
and fructify.
And then
An acorn drops.

Sonny Rainshine

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-oak-s-progress/