Acorns in the lake

Along the bank of a forest lake, following its every turn and curve, runs a path. Trees here grow on both its sides, some right on the edge of the bank, dark trunks and roots washed by the water. The path is dim, and you won’t immediately notice the oaks hiding in places more suitable for willows, branches hanging over the lake. In September, acorns start to fall down. Some right into the lake, making a dull sound, disappearing forever in the brown water. Some on the shore and, occasionally, the heads of the passersby, who nevertheless brave the path, determined to enjoy the last warm days of the year.