A Willow Once Pondered

A Willow Once Pondered As I lay beneath this willow tree, cresting the banks of a nearby creek. Its budding branches swaying to natures whispered symphony, with a floral scent on a gentle breeze. Lilac, and jasmine oh how they fare so well. So soft is the sweet sound of a laughing butterfly as it bounds near fluttering to an enchanted spell. In its jubilant exuberance does it playfully glide along on its way. Such wonder and delight as spring wine and its sweet taste upon a young man's lips. In its serendipitous subtly, the sylvan siren songs of nature call my name. My thoughts have been of plenty, and oft do I reminisce. As I lay here, languishing in my lazy bliss. With pen and paper in hand, I jot, but a few bits of scribble. Long have I pondered the existence of this graceful willow. To compare it to my worth. Am I deep into my soul as its roots run to the ground? Am I what I dream myself to be, or am I what you perceive of me? Do I bend to the breeze as lithe as this tree when I hear your decree? Do I lack thereof a diligent dedication? Or are the words that I describe with delicate dignity for that of a higher divinity? Long have I dwelt here in my private thoughts, searching for such a subtle meaning. How capricious and coy in its nurtured nature, what facet false façade would you have me be? These opine of what you deride in me have my dull drum so dark and dreary. Would you cast me upon the lost and wretched weary? Perhaps I am more than meets your eye. A Poet to be or not. To stay faithful to my stated natured grace. Or to step forth from my worded realm and secluded place and acquiesce to your demands of deference. How roughshod rough and to tumble you come at me. What a cold and callous complacency you would have me be? No, World, I will be as this Willow and stay true to my nature. And feel the love of God with infinite in the divinity. I, as a Poet, will always hear nature's sirens song.