Willowsong

What the willow sang. A terzanelle.

Willowsong


He lays his head upon his pillow,
dreams of tales the solar winds would bring
and hears sap rise within the willow,

pulsing through the supple whips that sing
of far off places they should visit,
tales of dreams the solar winds would bring

to make them thirst to journey to it,
makes them shake their branches in the breeze
for far off places they should visit

to attend to God's most precious peeve.
This share of universal knowledge
makes them shake their branches in the breeze

at how unfair it is to bear this message,
knowing something of Creation's tears.
Why share this universal knowledge?
Why upset the way we've lived for years?

He lays his head upon his pillow,
knowing nothing of Creation's tears
yet hears sobs rise within the willow.


Kåre Enga

catalogue number: [162.541]
17 november 2005

This is a terzanelle. See "Terzanelle" 

for:

Monthly Poetry Form and Prompt Contest  (18+) Two contests in one!!! A new form of poetry every month. Round 9: The Pleiades #940800 by Bekah Aura

Note: whips ~ flexible branches.