nimble little nut

Nimble little nut
with candied kernel
tongue outstretched.

The nut wonders about
marvels of the unknown,
of existence and being.
His flesh stitches their symbol.

Fruits are illusory,
the sweetest
don’t beg
to be peeled and devoured.

They hang hidden in a tree,
whoever picks
knows not to search
but to discover.

The days above
give time to see,
somehow in some way
one finds me.

Nimble little nut
runs into the sea,
laughing and splashing
we smile in glee.