To a Weeping Willow

"the willows dip Their pendent boughs, stooping as if to drink." William Cowper To a Weeping Willow The graceful, sweeping green I remember seeing it, my first weeping willow graceful trails of leaves bending to touch its own reflection Growing on a creek bank thick with grasses I lay there in the soft tufts, dreaming, staring up at clouds watching the zig-zag flitters of a butterfly. Now days never seem so long Wherever its pure tapestry reigns in fragrant gardens, wherever they take root; on creek-beds sometimes by a charming bridge. Weeping Willows have become for me symbols of long peaceful days I stop to gaze at them in gardens, in paintings, in books that picture them my hand lingers on the page Beside a lacquered pond they still touch their own reflections with long, whispering trails Once, in a dream, I saw one with pallid catkins, on a lonely promontory beside a forgotten grave- an echo of grieving. Suzanne Delaney