The Lightning Walnut Tree

I stand small, in the summer of my innocence, beneath the ancient, lumbering, struck walnut tree.

The shimmery haze of Summer sun, hypnotizes me;  as I dream of a silver winged storm that struck a jagged, cavernous rip, down the black walnut tree above me.

Moving on the lazy porch swing by the river, I remember the pungent green scent of the walnut flesh, as it stained my fingers, prying very eager to enter its inside.

My Grandmother, Virginia Rose, told me what fine Christmas persimmon cookies we would bake with this harvest.

Dusk came with a soft tinkling of the calliope on the supine river…and smiles as we sipped with reverence, her special lemon iced tea;

squeaky, rust chain swing, breaks into the somber silence as the blues and lavender bathed our eyes from the sky.

In my downy coolness of bed, so far up the steps in the old home I see that tree.

It just stands old and knowing; letting some distant storm, stir and sway its children leaves.

I know it will always be with me.

 

By- Tommie Flannery Baskis  (c.) 2019

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