Acorns Like Small Bombs

Thud against the shingles,

and sound like canon fire

on the metal front porch roof,

meanwhile the rain drizzles down,

its not even three am,

I should be sleeping,

but am not,

at least I am writing

and listening to the sounds

of nature against our little place,

grateful this last storm seems

to be looking for a vacant lot in Mexico

instead of our house.

I hope no one is harmed there,

I cannot volunteer our street

to save them.