Offering

Offering

On my windshield, in the exact center of my view —
a seedpod surrounded by leaves
spiraled around a stalk.
The forces, the timing, the events placed it
just there just then
before I arrive at my car after my first day back in the classroom.

I coo my delight.

There’s nothing more to say.
Eyes close, face tilts to the sky, shoulders soften with heart fully exposed.
Gratitude then. Pausing to let love permeate and saturate.

The ordinary ways that the natural world reaches out to me
feel like quiet celebration.

I place the offering in the center of my table
and listen to it share about its origin tree
and how it is that we all grow and fall and grow again.
I ask about the grace of being lifted,
about the natural world’s steady patience to teach us,
and whether tenderness might just be the only lesson we need to learn.