The Blessing of Brown Velvet

 

Today, the tree spoke.

Not with words—

but with pods,

soft-bellied and brimming with sun.

I reached out, and it answered.

Bent branches bowed like old priests

offering scripture sealed in velvet skin.

Beneath the hush of green,

it whispered,

“Take. Be nourished. Be known.”

Flesh like honeyed amber,

sour and sacred,

clung to my fingers

like memory.

I did not forage—

I was gifted.

The kind of giving

that asks for nothing

but your awe.

So I leave this offering in return:

a whisper, a thank you,

a promise to listen more deeply

to what the earth gives freely—

not as a reward,

but as recognition.