Willow

There’s a willow tree; it’s stranded in the middle of a field, far from the winding river which borders it. When I drive to the supermarket  the tree’s permanence speaks to me. Long ago it fell down and now its sprawling stump yields fresh growth: sturdy stems which in the Spring will throw out green fronds. We’ve passed the darkest day of the year and the time of renewal will come again. The battered old tree keeps going. Sometimes there are sheep in the field, sometimes cattle.  The river flows on.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Willow

  1. Pooka says:

    Wonderful. And I love willows. Maybe my favorite tree.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s