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
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