liana walks to the end of her driveway on a mid-spring afternoon.

she stops to survey her morning’s work and smiles;

admiring her lawn of emerald green grass, perfectly coiffed and manicured, free of detritus –

except for one lone pinecone.

there’s a tinge of pain in her back; a muscle memory reminder of her morning of clearing said detritus.

she kicks the pinecone in frustration,

across the street, down the block, until a mangy dog runs from the alley and grabs it in his mouth

drooling and thrilled with the gift of an unexpected toy.

the dog carries the slobbery pinecone three blocks to the park

where one firm bite causes it to explode – the seeds scattering like candy from a piñata.

he stares, confused, at his toy now in pieces, before departing quickly to chase a garbage bag fluttering in the wind –

a new toy.

three young squirrels who’d watched the dog from high up in their roomy nest of leaves zig zag haphazardly down the tree

to investigate the pinecone confetti,

using their prehensile front feet, each one picks up a seed, sniffs it, and places it in his/her mouth

to carry off to another locale and bury for the season when pinecone seeds are better than nothing.

the forgotten seeds will soon hum deep in the soil.

a family of turkeys happen upon the seeds two hours later, squabbling delight to be spared the arduous task of extracting them from the cone,

and partake immediately in consuming them – as pinecone seeds are, to them, a delicacy in every season.

the quails join them in celebrating, releasing their assembly call of quavering metallic whistles to inform the other quails of such good fortune.

the following day, having traveled a variety of avian intestinal tracts, these seeds will return to the soil and hum quietly.

meanwhile, a scattering of male cardinals, nuthatches, and finches otherwise occupied by mating duties spot the fortunate cache of seeds,

they skillfully swoop down to take their share of the booty, though they opt for carry-out instead – placing the seeds in their beaks and taking flight.

distracted by a passing female, a few birds drop their seeds a mile or two away into rich loamy earth that not only causes the seeds to hum,

but to sing.

liana returns home from her journey later that evening

as the mid-spring sun begins to set.

she sneers upon seeing two more pinecones have sullied her otherwise perfect yard.

leaning down to pick them up and throw them in the garbage, she sighs and says aloud, “stupid worthless things.”