Courtship

He held out an acorn to me, so I took it.
He smiled and walked away.
That was Tuesday.
Thursday, he sat down across the table at lunch
And asked me what I thought of trees
And how they throw up their arms all day
In praise of possibility.
The branches? I asked. He smiled, yes, branching,
And held out another acorn.
When we found ourselves on a bench in the park,
Two acorns later, looking up into the maple limbs,
I decided it was high time to ask him
What he thought of squirrels.
They’re either dumb or courageous, scurrying around like that,
As if they had wings, he said.
Then he held out another acorn.
I put my hand under his, closed our finger around it,
And we sat, holding on like that, for some time.