Acorn

She must have been seven when she walked across the white washed wooden bridge feeling nothing but love from someone so close and cherished, her Nana.

But then she picked up an acorn, on it’s own.  Searched for it’s cap and found it, but suddenly felt so alone.

At least the acorn now had it’s hat.

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About rhubsknit

Freelance Photojournalist & Independent Artisan, Past: Early Childhood Educator & Advocate, Tai Chi Instructor, Energy Work, Midwife Assistant, Computer Instructor & Professional Dancer. Interested in social justice work. Love the outdoors! And love miniature worlds.
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