*perpetual Motion Poem by Lillian Susan Thomas
*perpetual Motion
Willow sapling, no taller than me,
towards the river it leans -
spindly whips covered with leaves
in the water dangle green -
some would call it keening
but not me.
It's too young to know the meaning
of sorrow. This willow is not weeping;
moving one way with the stream,
and back in the breeze,
its constant swaying:
a dance of delight.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
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4/24/2024 3:52:02 AM # 1.0.0.1119
