I planted an acorn deep in the ground,
Through the moist ground it came, making no sound.

I watched as the acorn so shiny and small,
Became a live oak, growing so tall.

It's branches spread out, big, sturdy, and strong,
Covered with spanish moss, and exceedingly long.

Now the wind in the leaves, makes a music so sweet,
On long summer nights, in the soft southern heat.

When i'm gone from this Earth, when my spirit is free,
The wind will be blowing through my giant oak tree.

12/11/05 Alton Texas

Juan Olivarez

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-acorn-4/