The green pecan speaks to me.

She tells me she is filled with hate,

A bitter taste, disdain for those 

Who get too close.

Yet, as she turns into a nut,

And then a seed,

And falls down deep beneath 

The rotting leaves and dust,

She finds she must

Put down roots.

She shoots out a stem

And climbs her own nodules day after day,

Like Jacob’s ladder,

Plastering layer upon layer of bark

To hide her away from the world.

But what’s this?

She blooms.

Green tassels dangle from her twigs,

Unnoticed and disguised, but they 

Are blossoms nonetheless.

She has made a beautiful mess,

Produced after her own kind,

And several baby trees sprout up around her.

She speaks to me.

She finds that she’s surrounded by 

People she loves, after all.

-jenn