All Poetry
Poetry
Acorn Rain
August 24, 2026
The nightly bombardment disturbs our dreams
While the tiny missiles clutter our gutters
Offspring of the sturdy oak
They cover the lawn and flowerbeds
A hazard underfoot,
Like marbles left on the floor
By an irresponsible child.
Daytime sounds disguise their clatter
While daylight reveals their vast number
Like homesteaders staking a claim
Each seed sends a root into the ground
Undisturbed, a tiny forest will appear
No match for the mower’s blade or the gardener’s rake
Undeterred, the tree continues year after year
To follow its encoded instructions
It pours down its prodigious rain and
Each time, we thwart nature’s intentions
Tidying up after the annual deluge
Struggling to maintain control
The tree, so inefficient but effective
When one seed, hidden from man and squirrel
Rises to carry on the legacy of
Its mighty progenitor.
Editor: Michelle Newman
About the Poet
Karen Zill is a former outreach manager and discussion guide writer at PBS station WETA in Washington, DC. She is currently a freelance writer whose work includes memoir, nature writing, essays, and occasional comedy pieces and now, poetry.
September 29, 2026
What a beautiful meditation.
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You turned an annoyance into music. I could HEAR that nightly bombardment — the soft thuds on the roof, the gutter percussion, the lawn covered like marbles after a careless child has played.
And then you lifted it into something so much bigger: that quiet battle between order and wildness. Us with our rakes and mowers, trying so hard to stay in control — and the oak, so patiently inefficient, so gloriously persistent, pouring its legacy down year after year, trusting that just one hidden seed will be enough.
“Each time, we thwart nature’s intentions / Tidying up after the annual deluge” — that line will stay with me. It’s not just about acorns anymore, is it? It’s about resilience, hope, motherhood, legacy.
Thank you for this unsung music. You made me hear the autumn differently tonight.