Coming or Going?

Is he working his way out of the berry? His little feet gripping the branch and pulling steadfastly away? Or is he nibbling his way in, pushing with intent to devour?

It's not always clear in nature. And it's not always clear in life.

Are the berries better when they're plump, filled with juice, and ripe with promise? Or when they suddenly burst from their tight skins, forming tiny perfect florets that will last all winter, reminding us of autumn's promise.

Bitter. Sweet.

Both.