Almost Edible
“Almost Edible”
I nearly missed it—
a delicate curl of bark
resting on a soft green pillow,
like it had landed there
from a dream
or a dessert tray.
Perfectly coiled.
Just sitting there,
not even trying—
and yet,
I am captivated.
I blame the resemblance
to a cinnamon roll.
Not just any roll,
but one from that overpriced bakery
downtown
with the line out the door
and the frosting that glistens
like it knows
what it’s doing to you.
My stomach growls.
Louder than it should in a forest.
A nearby robin turns,
concerned.
I remind myself
this is bark.
Not breakfast.
Still, I lean in—
half-hoping it might be warm.
Nature has a way
of pulling stunts like this—
shaping tree scraps
into pastries,
clouds into whales,
leaves into perfect little hearts—
just to tease us.
Or maybe
just to say,
“Look again,
gentle witness.
The world’s been magic
this whole time.”