The Willow's Dance
The willow bends before the wind,
And suddenly I am moving in the willow's dance.
Swaying, swaying, I rise and fall in time to
the song of the wind.
Waltzing through blowing grasses
I weave in and out following the intricate patterns
of the tossing branches.
The wind quickens and so does my dance.
Round, round, I whirl like a leaf on the wind.
In a wild crescendo, the wind lifts me in its arms
for one great leap,
Then drops away to a whisper, a gentle breath
that ruffles the willow's leaves and my hair.
s. greer, March 1968
wind, moving the forest,
sound of a thousand branches,
swaying in time;
my body has become oak,
creaking before the wind,
yearning to dance
like the willow,
in my mind.
sgreerpitt, February 8, 2009
For more poems on the theme of movement see One Single Impression.