July 13, 2026, entered in Brian Strand's Contest 1487
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I've spread my blanket on the ground beside the trunk of a majestic willow tree. I relish how its long, green, wispy leaves, which almost touch the ground, envelop me. I watch them swaying in the gentle breeze as I sit--silent, lost in pensive thought. As one who feels that solitude can lead to peace, I've found the perfect spot I sought. I brought my pen and paper just in case . . . but suddenly I’m nodding and my eyes are closing. For a little while, I'll sleep. Perhaps I’ll write a poem when I rise.
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