Reminiscence

Black Walnut 
by K. R. Strange 
A black walnut tree stood in the yard 
of my childhood house; I still see it 
in the memories behind my eyes. 
It stood at the corner of our drive 
and the street; 
tall, 
branching out. 
It lent gravitas to our old house 
with the careless property around it. 
My father sold it one year to a man 
who would use it to make gun stocks. 
I think it brought a good piece of change, 
but that old yard never recovered it’s 
dignity. It just sat there like another 
piece of ground.; 
Unadorned and 
unremarkable. 
7.14.04