Like the ancient Chinese poets
Hundreds of years from now
I am almost sure that no one reading this
Will understand what I mean about
The black walnut, how its fruit
Falls from the sky in August like baseballs,
All the season’s lost line drives and extra
Base hits, all falling in a few weeks of
Evenings, after the ballpark has shut its eyes.
Who will read it and know what I hear? The ten thousand thuds
Of things getting away, all concentrated
Into a night of continued falling, like all your
Life’s bad news dropping in one long sleepless
Dream. Because the black walnut poisons its
Own earth against other trees so it can soak up
More sky, creating more fruit that drops from
Higher heights and falls in a place of the night
That only a black walnut could fall and grow
Anything from. Maybe that’s what you will
Understand, reader, a thousand years from
Now, in your own evening of everything falling.
As a baseball lover (married to a former little league coach) I truly appreciate your analogy but am really blown away by your ending “in your own evening of everything falling”. I just love where your mind goes, Jeff!
Yes, they broke the mold and then made Jeff!
Like your comment, Bob!
Well, there’s the back cover blurb for my next book… thanks Bob!
Thank you Lynne! Also a huge baseball fan here.
It’s the smartest game of them all, according to my husband. I could tell from your description you were a big fan!
The black walnut is a wonderful metaphor for that which appears strong and hardy and is, in essence, destructive. Very thought-provoking.