Tower and Town, August 2026 (view the full edition)Nature Poetry, Year 7The last acorn swings where the old branch sighs, Beneath the empty canopies, the patient skies The wind tells stories of roots long gone, of shade that once danced, then drifted on. I dream of more scatter of life, More acorns and more wildlife But all is there to view, across the hills and far to the sea, something beautiful, you could call it a fantasy. Seasons pass, and still I stand, I am the last acorn of this land. Charlotte Pontoppidan-Toms |