FROM MY DECK

From the view of our deck stands the Willow tree, With weeping shadows as the wind sets her free. In the night's light she doesn't seem like a tree, But appears like a dancer bending at knee. Hearing only the slightest rustle, the wind stirs her leaves, Like a gentle shaking from a gentle breeze, No other tree moves so freely in the wind, Like the mighty Willow that never breaks, only bends.