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