The willow's weeping has begun
from advances of the sun
whose burning touch on gangly limbs
awakens hidden things to grow
and soon a looming shadow dims
that former flawless glow.
The willow's weeping seldom ends
but still it hopefully extends
it's branches to embrace the grove
and capture golden grace
that spills from the Almighty's trove
upon our hapless race
Are You Reading Me?
2 comments:
cool poem about my favourite tree - nice work good sir!
Hey Brother O, great to hear from you. Thanks a lot, although the weeping sometimes inspires more somber thoughts I tried to infuse the promise of spring in this one. Hope all is well and I apologize for not stopping by your site more often.
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