Walnut
It’s no use wondering how
we got here. We got here
on our own the way trees
keep growing more branches
fighting for space even against
themselves. Fellow humans too
often are not fellow. Look
how many criminals and con artists
smile from their memoirs.
Like us, it’s hard to generalize
about trees. Some work all year
toward a sweetness they can’t use.
Others, like the walnut, poison
the ground around them against
any competition. Sure, we are
capable of songs. We can build
beautiful bridges to bring apples
from one side of a river to another.
But we also poison what we love
and expect gratitude for it.
Walnut fruit is hard after all,
but sweet when roasted
and shared with friends,
and the wood is grand
for flutes or gun stocks.
GRANT CLAUSER’s sixth poetry book, Temporary Shelters, is forthcoming from Cornerstone Press. Read more.