A poem

The soft-furred willow,

a host for ardent bees

who hum and plow,

leans across the path

to brush skin and

stroke the passing

stranger in his straw hat

and high black boots.

That was the day the

strong wind cracked

her bough and sent it

broke lowing to the mud

and the jackdaw stole

the new buds for his nest.

Now she bursts a bloom

of sprig from busted limb

and beams of life anew.

Copyright © 2019 Bridget Webber. All rights reserved

Nature Lover, Former Mental Health Professional, Writer https://tinyurl.com/y2cgqhgv

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