Willows, especially those that weep,
sing a tune that echoes through the years
of our lives.
Graceful beyond compare, bending,
touching the ground
with branches that run tears.
Hidden spaces, from rain, heat,
snow or unwanted faces.
Dappled shade with private peeping holes,
seen from the outside are
eyes among the leaves,
both human and avian.
Our vintage town had enormous willows
along the river bend.
Majestic, they trailed their tears,
mingling
into the rivers' water,
flowing from one into the other.
Lovely summer green, these giant beauties
reached high,
to the sun and to azure sky.
River banks are their haven of choice,
for there they soak up water for
needs of their weeping.
As the wind blows
and weeping branches separate,
hidden spaces are revealed
although never fully.
Branches ripple, bending
to the summer winds,
alone, unique, different.
Mysterious summer friend to
all who seek shelter,
both large or small.
Companion to those who need solace,
who must needs find someone
to weep with them.
By Jennie
