Beech kernels burst
Soft spiked and open
A scatterspread of autumn pods
Atop tabletop earth
Your tough husk housing
Empty now and full of windsong
Echoes the starry night
Inside as smooth as the ear of a seashell
Your seeds have gone to ground
Settled around
Nestled beneath cracked leaves
Curlturned like fortune fish
The seed needs no explanation
It explains itself 
Through the holy trinity
Of rain
Soil & sunlight