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.
I found myself quite literally rooting for this old walnut. Its resilience isn’t pristine or heroic—it creaks, scars, and aches, yet still offers shade and drops the possibility of another life each autumn. Endurance with something left to give.
I found myself quite literally rooting for this old walnut. Its resilience isn’t pristine or heroic—it creaks, scars, and aches, yet still offers shade and drops the possibility of another life each autumn. Endurance with something left to give.
Yes! Me too. A hero and fine example for those unable to see a possible future.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts, my friend.