I Am The Willow In Winter

Picture Cribbed From "From the Lilypad"

I wrote this poem ages and ages ago but never thought it was very good.  But lines from it keep popping into my head lately.  So I thought I’d share. 

I am the willow in winter

Long swaying branches

like tenticles

dance on frigid air

tinkling an icy fugue

the leafless branches

are all beauty, no life.

I will be the willow in spring

reaching down to choke the deep

and pull out life.

And I will dance

in warm, moist air

full of life

green leaves

making shushing noises

as they rub together

these leaves will die again

in fall

the next time

the coldness of the world

overcomes the willow

and me.

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