“A Willow Bends”
A willow bends to the wind.
In approbation, she attends,
pledging fealty to the goddess.
The goddess waxing great, her promise.
An accomplice, sacrosanct yet equal,
she presides. Congenial,
she pulls the tide.
Bursting wide,
streams spill,
worshipping still
with their liquid hands,
sculpting stones
and building thrones
and shaping earth,
growing shallow for rebirth.
Cracked and dried beauty,
the brittle earth, ripe to be
encompassed in fire.
The elements conspire,
bringing the seedling forth anew.
Draped in the morning dew,
the seedling willow weeps
in joy, breathing deep
the ether of the stars,
and growing aging scars,
the willow reaches to her goddess,
the promise of her solace.
Then slowly the willow bends
in acquiescence to the wind.
–Christina Knowles
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