The weather’s been good but
some of the trees are dropping
them early and small anyway
two of them fit just right in my hand
I roll them around each other
like a binary star or some kind
of Appalachian worry beads
as I walk through the green shade
of early morning every few minutes
raising my fist to my nose eyes closed
huffing my way back through time
to my Aunt Jane’s impossibly
long and slow rope swing that
hung from their giant walnut tree
the smell of Summer’s fever broken
to nights finally cool enough to 
rapidly walk and excitedly talk
with my two best friends about
the cute new girl in geometry class
the smoke from our unfiltered Camels
competing with the dark fragrance
of the trees we passed beneath
and to years after that when
I used  the nice round ones for
showing my kid how to juggle.