LISTENING TO THE WILLOWS
Walking down to the lake there is an avenue
of weeping willow trees.
All year round they seem to dance and sway
in time to the breeze
That blows from the lake and they appear to
mesmerize you as you pass,
Especially in the summer, you just want to
stop and rest on the grass.
Then they whisper their secrets as those long
leaves caress your face,
And their movements seem ethereal and full
of mystical grace.
We are old, they say, we have seen this place
change year by year,
Long cold winters, most of us survived and
always full of good cheer,
Come relax and we will tell you of things
that are long past,
For we weeping willows can on some folks
a magical spell cast.
They told me tales when they were young and
few came their way,
Right up to the present when on a lovely
warm summer day
A thousand come to enjoy the lake but some do
not listen to their song,
But spoil nature’s sounds by blasting out
noise all the day long.
Then the breeze changed to a very strong wind
that whipped at the leaves,
They seemed to scream in anger, at that time
each branch did heave
As if they wanted to punish those who too much
noise do make,
And I understood sweet natures pain that day
how much it does ache.

(Millicent) Ann Margetson 5 May 2004