Willow

Nature’s lanky child
spills from bed
on a flawless morning.

Head bend forward
into the globular pond.

Tresses bathe amongst
fragrant white water-lilies.

A blossoming dawn
sets ablaze the meadow

of orange-hawkweed
and spotted touch-me-not.

The easterly breeze tousles
before being captured

beneath her mantle
in the stippled shade.

Persuaded to relinquish potency,
to become no more than a whisper.

Mesmerizing motion
lulls the ox-eyed daisies

into a hypnotic trance.

previously published in Verse Afire