The Willow in the Winds
I see the soul of the weeping willow , so strong , so noble
Yet a sad affectation in its sloped bearing.
Its beautiful and gentle , and vulnerable all the same.
Its roots grow out widely , so thirsty is its soul
so deep its fount
so swelled with life water that none can compare to its capacities.
I am blessed to share this unquenchable fount
Your fount, sweet love , It fills me and
my shallow pond
so desperately relies on you to fill me
with what you so naturally possess
and that which I can only acquire from you.
I don’t mean to drink so heartily from you
but you can withstand it , I know
I need you , you have saved me , I owe you all
You have such a capacity for love and to fill me with it
and you do so – nobly , so gently , selflessly.
This leaves you vulnerable , your easing of my thirst.
But your fount seems boundless.
You are of magnificence and grace , as a willows soul .
Whistling through the wood , the wind-whipped rain pelts the land
As the wind whips, the willow wails , weeping its worth upon the earth.
Kevin Beary – 2009ish