I try to hold on to the acorn
without
thinking how gravity pulls it
from tree and how it falls into soil,
how it hopes to spur roots,
to be sapling, to be oak,
but all I think of
is the time
it has spent free-falling
between
the bough and the ground
I try to think like the squirrel
of saving acorns for winter,
of survival and of places to hide it,
but I act the accountant
and spreadsheet the acorn
to see
how benefits balance the work
the squirrel is doing for nothing.
I try to in vain
to think of the acorn less
in terms of mass or its number than
as the magic of being an oak
in the making.
My work is all about numbers and benefits, by education a physicist andbeing a poet I think sometimes these things shine through. This is written for Gina at dVerse who hosts a wonderful prompt about the hum of your other life seeps into your poems.
March 19, 2019
Björn Rudbergs writings 
There is something in this about attending to the moment, for me. I like the knowledge and experiences we bring with us to our writing.
I think how often I miss out on the moment trying to be rational.
your training seems to make you pause the moment and dissect the magic, that can be a good thing to me, putting in perspective the process is a mightier magic than just marveling at the end product. this poem has a lot of sensitivity and a heightened sense of appreciation for the little things that others miss.
Ever the scientist, Björn! Science is magic and magic is science – I envy your numerical wizardry.
You said you might try for humor, Bjorn. Spreadsheeting an acorn is such a silly image. The squirrel never wastes time. If it finds the acorn, it lives to bury more. If it doesn’t, another tree is born. A bean counter operates within a fiscal year. A scientist operates within a process. An acorn operates one moment at a time.
Nice description of the accountant’s perspective: “spreadsheet the acorn”
I feel totally at one with this acorn now after having read your poem.
Your last stanza really lit it up for me.
miriam
You are enigma, Bjorn. The executive dealing in spreadsheets and facts, and the inner Bjorn with such a romantic bent. Hang on to that inner fellow!
I never thought of the doing a spreadsheet of the acorn but your poetic hum shines through – seeing that magic of the acorn in making. Keep that poetic eye sharp and humming.
I doubt the acorn has hopes — it just naturally does its thing.
Love how you have intertwined your two worlds – isn’t it true that our intellectual processes threaten the sheer pleasure of nature?
Ha! You did evoke the magic, you sly poet. Science and math do not necessarily block poetry. Love the integration.
I like your focus on the natural rather than the number of things. I think we all get caught up in maintenance and forget the beauty of every individual thing that is around us in nature. Well done!
Excellent! Love how you see poetry from a physicist’s eyes, Bjorn.
Your bent to analyze and enumerate adds dimensions to your poetry…or does it take away? A conundrum, for sure, but one you seem to adeptly solve.
Just seeing an acorn can plant the seed of a thought, one that even a scientist cannot ignore.
I think I know exactly what you mean. Each tiny thing is a source of wonder, speculation and it is endless. We’d forget to breath.
I love hearing about the potential of that acorn… Lovely, leisurely vibe here, a contrast to all the number-crunching.
Bjorn, A unique poem and concept of intertwining your two worlds. I think it would be fun to have a picnic under that oak tree and contemplate the beauty of the acorn.
a physicist! love to know this, it’s really difficult to turn off our mind from all the things we have learned in science and look at them with ‘feelings’, not measurements and calculations. love your poem!
I think you are right that these parts of us shine through. The combination between our creativity and our unique backgrounds creates unique poetry.
This shows that analytical numerical side of you Bjorn and yet, such tender creativity in your words.
I never think about the space between the tree and the ground – but you brought it to mind and I can’t stop thinking about it. I like how you balance your scientist and artist sides so well. Missed you!