Many people looking for an "acorn poem" end up here, because I list the little poems I've written for Atlantia's newsletter as "Acorn Poems." (The newsletter being "The Acorn," of course.) This is an attempt at an Anglo-Saxon-style riddle.
A hard round thing high above earth
I fall in the fall found on the ground
Pleasing to pigs precious hog-meal
I wear a hat high on my head
Brown is that cap covering brow
Come spring, I shed simple headgear
Taller I stand try to touch sky
Many years pass til proudly I rear
High above earth hard round thing falls
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