Tales from th' Trails

Because if they did
they would know th' secret 
to something 
that's been secret for so long
that even its origins are secret-
Because you must find the acorns-
Because you must collect them
after they fall to the ground,
gather them together into a sack
right there where they're found,
take them home and dry them out-
(you can't leave them outside, 
       the squirrels will see to that)
Because you must crack them open
with calculated pounding-
(get into a rhythm, you will like th' sound)
Because you must wait for them to dry
without letting the mold arrive-
Because you must find a rock to 
grind them with-
(we have a favorite, 
      it lives in a drawer with th' woodenware)
Because if you leave that rock outside,
after pounding,
a squirrel will gnaw and gnaw at it,
and when he realizes he cannot eat it
he will pee on it, and you will have
to wash your pounding rock
before you can use it again-
Because while you are pounding 
the acorn into flour
grubby little fingers
will try to avail you 
of half your work and
a tantalizing smell will
assault all of your senses,
bringing our ancestors back from th' past
with molasses sweet remembrance-
Because you must leach them
this way or that,
(it really does, yet doesn't matter which)
No, I cannot tell you for how long,
you will know it on your own-
Because after you have done all this
and you have realized
that there is nothing better to do,
and you remember th' birdsong,
and th' breeze that shook th' leaves
that are drying on th' trees,
and the autumn light slanting down
and th' dew in th' morning
and th' sirens warning
us all that we are closer than ever
to th' fall, 
after you've heard th' crow's cawing
and th' geese honking, 
and your legs are tired from sitting-
After all this, 
then you still have to cook them-
(Bake a pie, 
make some Nuppa)
And then, you are not done yet, 
you have to eat them, 
with family, with friends,
with thanksgiving
for th' secret
that now lives within you-
Because you carry it around,
and that is a responsibility
you now have-
Because that secret 
must be guarded with care-
Because that secret must be kept,
and yet it must be shared-
Because that secret 
fell from trees,
born on flowers nobody sees,
grown from water 
and sun on leaves,
and colors everything we see