The Treasures of a Chestnut Tree…

Conker

The horse chestnut tree stands majestically alone.

Protecting its prize within a green spikey husk,

Until autumn arrives, breezing in, winter close on her trail.

Whereupon it drops silently to the ground below splitting open,

To reveal a delightfully smooth, dark, shiny conker.

Waiting to be gathered by noisy children,

To be declared as treasure in the school playground.

 

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