Acorn Jim, They called him

Always covering up a darkness within

A cap or umbrella, or scarf for show

Never leaving his home without a disguise in tote

And every year he grew a little bit more

Taller and lankier than the year before

Even in older years he steadily grew

Eventually went barefoot as he couldn’t fit in shoes

His toes were curled, ridged and brown

sounded like leaves in the wind as he walked around

Butterflies and birds would land on his hands

Drawn to him, not scared like the townsmen

Acorns fell from his pockets, squirrels would gather

And help plant the seeds he dropped like no matter

In winter he drooped and looked thin as his bones

In spring he’d smile and become wider and grow

He never harmed anyone though people feared his very sight

He died shockingly one night with a lone lightning strike