New Year Willows

Stripped bare the old year now gone, the rising growth has shed its leaves through seasons done. See those willows up skywards piercing, all splashed with gold, touched by the solstice sun. Unbowed against the heavy clouds they pose for another season fresh, and ready with a cheerful willow whispers to compose fresh new growth, flexible yet steady. Beyond the brow new tissues tangling make us anxious of events foretold. We know not what another year may bring. Will there be tears or will we strike gold? We with the willows not weeping should know in this New Year what is yearning to grow.