Chestnuts

I passed a chestnut tree by the side of the road.

So many nuts had dropped after the rain.

Some lay there flattened,

few remained unscathed.

I went searching through the debris.

I wanted something whole;

something precious and fragile.

If you’ve ever seen a chestnut,

it truly is a work of god.

A spinney porcupine,

with a soft, smooth underbelly.

As I filled my pockets

I was aware of the piercing edges,

collecting the cracked and prickly fragments.

For chestnuts are clever with their protective ways.

Week 10. Protection.

I have a collection of chestnuts I keep in a bowl by my window. I could not help but notice how the outside of the nut is so different from the inside. As I inspected each piece, I found that chestnuts are all about their protection. There are so many points facing outward. It’s nature’s way of warding off anyone from coming too close. Yes, in winter we protect ourselves from the harsh weather, that is certain, but in many ways we protect our soft vulnerable center all year around. When I was collecting chestnuts that day I sought out the precious unopened chestnuts, the ones that remained intact. But in retrospect, I began to wonder if the broken pieces and fragments were just as exquisite simply because they allowed me to see the smooth soft texture that lay inside.