Contemplation
When I was a child, I loved a willow tree. She embraced me with cascading,
filtered-green light, offered me a haven where butterflies were fairies & sprites, hid me
when I tried to make willow bark tea (Stirred leaves and bark in hot water. Sipped. And spit.)
Willow fed my soul, allowed me to peek out at the world. Observe. Safely retreat.
Late fall, I'd watch her golden sheen hang on far longer than most; I liked to think
because she would miss me. I know I missed her.
I turn fifty this November. Contemplate time upon a park bench as Autumn's bounty slowly fades, falls. Admire near perfection; for there is no willow tree in sight. Perhaps I will find her
before season's end, say hello once again to wood-nymphs and anglewings.
by Margaret Bednar, November 8, 2015
A willow tree, in my minds eye, is the grandest of trees. I'd have to say the Southern Live Oak is my second favorite tree with it's wide spread and heavy branches .
This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - The Eye of the Beholder - Micro Poetry" I chose free verse, and the poem must be written in 10 lines. I did it in 9 LONG lines. Not exactly micro I'm afraid.
15 comments:
The willow is a beautiful and graceful tree, certainly inspiration for many a tale. Congratulations on turning 50 this month - a watershed number of blessed years.
One gets an emotional attachment as willows are that emotional. They are not called 'weeping willow' for nothing.
Hank
One gets an emotional attachment as willows are that emotional. They are not called 'weeping willow' for nothing.
Hank
The willow is interesting in that it mirror the age of humans.. They age and die as we do... Congratulations in advance to turn 50..,
I never knew who I was until I turned fifty. I'm still not sure but I'm a lot easier to please. Grab it and run like the dickens. It's pretty great. I turned sixty in June. The jury's still out.
I love your poem because I always loved this huge willow in our yard and my father hated it. I smiled on the inside. He rejoiced when in it's old age a wind storm took it down. I mourned on the inside.
Now you understand the first line...
We had a huge willow in our back yard when I was growing up. I've always liked them.
Love the touch of the recipe framed within the poem. It made me think of works such as Isabel Allende's Aphrodite: a Memoir of the Senses and Laura Esquivel's Like Water for Chocolate.
Reminiscent and poignant. I loved the child like wonder in your verse. :-)
-HA
I loved your contemplation, Margaret. I relate. Playing in the trees, imagination and expectations set free. I'm more into faires now after spending a lot of time the last five years with frequent travel to the U.K. Those people, adults and young, live as if the fairies were among them. I didn't have them as a child but did respect the trolls.
Also your willow tree leaf tea, your looking forward to the drink--hidden by the fairies--was superb. When I was In the woods I didn't boil leaves for tea, I crushed them, wrapped them, and lit them for a smoke. Ingesting the smoke, at least into my mouth, and then, ... I coughed and spit.
Congrats on making the fifty. Now? AARP?
..
Hope you do find her again...lovely, tranquil poem.
As you contemplate the Willow, remember that 50 is the beginning of a woman's magical time! Well written!
There is a deep sense of your connection here--we find what we need in the universe--loved this--
A lovely reminiscence; I like your LONG lines. :)
PS I too loved a particular willow when I was very young.
You took me back to a childhood that unfolded beneath willow-arches. For me there is no other tree quite like it!
I turn fifty next June so you can try it out and let me know how it wears;-))
Happy Birthday and may God bless you with the best yet to come!
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