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.
