Splintered Walnut

A once-mighty friend calls out to me
The splintered black walnut tree moans and creaks
Its skin split and weathered with time
Its failing canopy gives way to wind and rain
Carrying decades of storms in its voice
Those which scarred and shaped its outward form.

The cracked earth that lies along its aching feet
Gnarled roots bubbled up from its deepest depths
Revealing miles of stationary battles it’s fought
Carving quietly through the soil it intertwines.

As the winds bend against its weight
When darkening skies threaten above
It still responds with a steadfast grin
Resilient to what mother nature blows its way
Sneering in the face of her feckless attempts
To break or bend its outstretched arms.

With limber strength in every branch
That releases cool shadows at its feet
It groans more and more each day
When skies are dark and clouds grow tall.

At one time green and growing
Perhaps overconfident, and naïve at times
It may feel the winds of fleeting decades
It may appear battered and bruised
Its skin tattooed from life and time.

Yet, I still see my old friend anchored firm
Rooted forever against the darkness
To drop unhatched walnuts each hopeful fall.