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I know why the willow grows. It grows for a life it yearns to know. It grows for you. It grows for me. It grows so tall for all to see. The willow grows because it can because no one told it that it can’t.
Strong as an Oak, Tall as a Pine, As beautiful as the Willow, But single spark, Or lightning's arc, Can burn up all the Meadow.
It started as a gentle breeze,a whisper in my ear:the weeping of a weeping willow,weeping out of fear. 'Why do you weep, weeping willow?There is no reason to cry.'
What have I become? All I want to do is lie somewhere, on the soft and unbroken earth. Feel the pulse of mother's womb, hear the coyotes calling, wade into a cold rushing river
Follow me down to the willow trees,where we can sing and dance along with the bees;With our youthful hands in the air, set your spirit free.
The black bird hiddenA crow, dark as nightAmong the willow branchesCascading to the groundA song so mournfulFlat and broken, a puzzleIncomplete.
Preciously you lay Underneath the willow tree Upon gentle ground
Sister is a willow. Bending, bowing to the thoughts and refuge of the forest. An original? May-be. But the sapling is still meek, and is swallowed by the foliage,