Willow

How the weeping willow breathes,

through lighted space and shadowy eaves.

She never can caress his face,

and brush the ground of his grace.

For in the night a wind brings nigh,

a cloud of starlings that fill the sky.

She shivers in her branches deep,

to the roots that never weep.

Claws and beak pierce leaves and wood.

They make a fire that is understood.

The tears come down,

those she could not weep.

They fill the space where roots grow deep.

Cleansing all the dust away, 

she makes a bed in molded clay.

Forming to this earthly brow,

she whispers that her time is now.

Good night, sleep well my earthly friend.

For she is in his arms again.

JAK