That Old Chestnut It’s still gnarly-bare,no leaves yeton that old chestnut tree. It’s old.It’s arbitrary.Bang-bang out of order, like a belligerent judge,a rigid thought growing wherenothing near it is its equal. There’s nothing symmetrical about it.Hit by lightning years ago.Blew sprinters and branches aboutas if hit by God’s own fist. But that tree’s dying.Slowly.Bleedingfrom its … Continue reading 15.02.22 That Old Chestnut