Secondhand Memories

Grafted green apple tree

in the vacant lot next door –

mid-sized boys

with tiny shakers of salt

perched on familiar limbs,

eating their fill and beyond.

Bigger boys climbing

designated routes of

increasing difficulty

to test their prowess, but

best of all,

best of all –

pelting each other

mercilessly

with their

fruity ammunition.

Green apple tree,

now long gone –

the man I love

was a boy

in your branches.

Stella Castella

It’s so interesting to hear the stories people tell about the things they remember most from childhood. Sometimes these are sad stories, of course, but this bunch that I’ve heard over time is nothing but pure golden deliciousness.