A Poem

UNDER THE WALNUT TREE

When I face what has left my life,

I bow.  I walk outside into the cold,
rain nesting in my hair.
All the houses near me
have their lights on.  Somewhere,
there is a deep listening.
I stand in the dark for a long time
under the walnut tree, unable
to tell anyone, not even the night,
what I know.  I feel the darkness
rush towards me, and I open my arms.

This poem by Lynn Martin has the same title

of my novel. It suggests a lot of what the novel means

and it could explain why I chose such title.