and some of summer has turned to rust
so I think about gathering black walnuts
as we tossed hundreds of them
into burlap-smelling gunny sacks.
You didn't teach us the value of money
nearly as much as the worth of living.
You painted on recycled canvas; mostly bare trees
and played instruments purely by ear.
When we were little, we didn't understand
why you would harmonize to "My Evaline"
but now we do.
"Meet me in the shade, of the old apple tree"