The air grows indistinct, edged
  with sudden atmosphere
     spherical, and indigo
The leaves cast crescent shadows
  inverted phases of the sun

My skin prickles
  with crisp twinges of oak
Our own shadows grow faint
  palpable
  splitting our joined hands

An acorn drops, slow
  as this penumbra
We watch its fall for hours
  while the sun and moon dance
     darkness and light

As the acorn falls between
  it sprouts, twisting and twirling
     into leaf, stem, full ancient oak
     before hitting the earth,
  a lifeless husk

Shadows bloom, concave
     and homeless
The branches snap into dust
  and blow on the wind
     the wraps the world in veils

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