you feel an acorn drop on your head

and it doesn't hurt,
but now 
you are always looking for squirrels

where there are none



yet, if you look, intently, at the trees,

at the winding and intertwining of their branches,

you will see the crows, 
subtle, nigh invisible


in every tree in every forest

hidden amidst the leaves


you might lock eyes with them

and they will look away, or they may fly, 

but never explain a thing



but the wind will blow

and it will remember

and it will follow you on your journey