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