Up In the Willow
Up in the willow climbing I go,
With the sky above and the earth below;
Each branch a step up to the sky,
Each step taken where feathered wings fly.
Up in the willow I see all around,
And all I am seeing is leafy green ground;
With lily and primrose to tint the hill,
Saying good bye to winter’s chill.
Up in the willow I hear rippling streams,
Carrying waters of opaline dreams;
And the persistent call of a waterfall,
Echoes throughout a green willow hall.
Up in the willow I feel the wind,
Rocking, and shocking brown etched limb;
And trees with leaves licked with gold,
Float down to earth with stories untold.
Up in the willow I see all ablaze,
Scarlet sumac painting fall's sunny days;
While looking over earth’s bright sunny scapes,
With fields of hay and purple vine grapes.
The wind is flying in its lonely quest,
From north to south and east to west;
Singing the lyrics of September’s song,
In lithe willow branches all day long.
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