she leaks nuts from her tree bough,
laughing at squirrels who catch some of those fallen ones below,
for five weeks long,
the weight loss continues
until the Autumn wind gives a big blow.
The nutshell she bears,
the language she speaks--
upon the season they always fall,
she lets go of the fruits,
without hesitation or regrets---
in life's kitchen,
nature and salt have gone smitten.
she hangs her head low,
when blizzard attacks her elbow,
none hears her silent cry,
when her throat goes dry
she scatters nuts without explaining whym
a picture of her years shall win her fame worldwide.