Poetic Acorn

With a sniffle-wiggle I sneeze,
as pollen like winter's snow blow, 
brushing away a tear 
upon a poetic acorn.

The mendacity of it all
when meadows are shorn,
by a scythe romancing a bee, 
with a failing smile.

There you hum in memories, 
a spiritual kiss of mummeries', 
for in my ear, an angel thralls. 
God's everlasting diaries.

And when the hushing grippe 
laid down its plague, 
on my four score and sins, 
I felt smite.

As the inch-worm squirmed 
on pages of yellowing kelp, 
the turning of my ague, 
upon a poetic acorn.