Willows

The golden light seemed to be catching the willow branches on this afternoon's walk across the fields. Other than that it was a routine domestic Monday.

Many thanks for the comments and best wishes for Tess's Mum & Dad yesterday. My One Year Ago blip shows them on their Anniversary last year; physically he's probably as fit now as he was then, but with the onset of Alzheimer's he seems to find it more difficult to cope with larger numbers of people.

Willow Poem

It is a willow when summer is over,
a willow by the river
from which no leaf has fallen nor
bitten by the sun
turned orange or crimson.
The leaves cling and grow paler,
swing and grow paler
over the swirling waters of the river
as if loth to let go,
they are so cool, so drunk with
the swirl of the wind and of the river --
oblivious to winter,
the last to let go and fall
into the water and on the ground.


William Carlos Williams