Silly Kindnesses

I thank the bushes for their gift when I pluck their berries.
I high five the tree branches extended out towards me.
I ask the plants for permission to harvest their fruit.
I honor the flowers I pick with gratitude.
I apologize to plants whose stems I snap with my step.
I scold my kids for unnecessarily hurting the bush when they rip off a fistful of its leaves.
I pet fluffy grasses.
I greet trees with a quick touch of my hand to their trunk.
I compliment the foliage for its changing colors.
I comfort the bush when I trim its overgrowth.
I say “see you again next year” to my friends when they go dormant for the season.

I give my heart fully to these living beings that will never respond with words or gestures.

They don’t have to.

They give more abundantly in sustenance and shade and beauty and breath than I could ever give back with my silly kindnesses.

I do it anyway.

I acknowledge their existence.

It will never be enough.

But it’s something.