Down a road of swirling fogs
And through screens of rural grey,
Life moves onward blindly,
Complete in disarray.
No ferns or mosses, No seed
To heal men’s fruitless losses.
A black and barren land it seems
Will fill the voids of my dreams.
Until merging into view
From fogs and churning rains,
Visions of a Willow Tree
Lend branches down, onto me.
Her trunk stands mellow, and graciously
Flowing by is the spine
Of her drooping leaves.
Up her bark I then twine to climb,
To reach her timbered peak.
Hanging, climbing, leaping, soaring,
And from cleft to branch I rise,
Grasping green and golden skies;
Above that barren land
And it’s sea of rolling mist.
Sprays of light dance round me,
As the Sun shines down his gift.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Leap by Paul Henry )
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