Song of the willow

I can almost hear it in my head,

that song of the willow tree.

Well,

not really.

Trees can't sing.

But if they could,

I think the willow tree

would sing the prettiest song.

Those branches,

hanging so daintily,

diffused with blushes of gold.

My mind has been soaked in Autumn this week,

walking  alone at night kicking leaves.

Thinking about America

( 17 sleeps to go. :)

Listening to love songs over and over

on my ipod,

enjoying the cool night air that sneaks

in through the attic windows when I least expect it.

Poetry by Robert Frost and books books and books

all over the house.

Baking bread and getting flour on my nose.

With the song of the willow tree,

always,

always

in

my

heart