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Life

So let's gaze upon a willow tree
in wonderment of its feelings.
Stature and grace it generates
from seed to full bloom presence.

Weather weathers continually
by contorting its stately mass.
Rippling motions set to music,
perchance, dancing to its dance.

Yet, it weeps in wind or sunlight
though its presence appears in tact.
Large, mature and alone it stands
as it suffers its sad solemn act.

I too am rooted, still and grounded,
also weathered and of such a way.
For as I move in changing weather,
whether ill or well, ..... I do sway.

My attraction to a willow tree
is within philosophic thought.
For in complex spasm
I bough thinking .....
"Am I that sort ... A Willow Tree"?

If I'm a shade tree covering friends
with compassion when they hurt.
All I need is loving fertilizer, water and
some of God's good old fashion dirt.