Willow Tall

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Willow Tall

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Just beyond the garden wall, across the meadow, last night’s dew clings fondly to our willow’s cascade, wrapping it in a crystalline embrace. It shimmers, as if bejeweled with diamonds, that sparkle in the morning sun. A splendor befitting its sensual beauty.

This day has begun bright and crisp. Bird songs lilt gently, carried on the soft breeze. I see you afar, approaching on the garden path, backlit by sunrise. Your hair beams golden in dawn’s glow. I am a smitten lover beholding my beloved!

I watch you as you stop by the willow, head tilted upward, eyes closed, enjoying nature’s serenade. In this moment my love spills over, floods ’round me, until I am afire. When you fix your eyes upon me, your lips sculpt a smile. I rush to you, take you in my arms, swept up on passion’s wings, on this golden morning.

by the garden wall
shaded by the willow tall
I kiss your sweet lips

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rob kistner © 2019

 

Here’s a little kiss from Joni…

 

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  • 30 thoughts on “Willow Tall”

      1. Pleased it resonates for you Merril! Willows are amazing trees. I had a really rough childhood from the mother and her mother, the grandmother, in my adoptive home. We had a huge old willow in the back of the 3 acre property. Big gnarly trunk built for climbing, and a cascade that hung all the way to the ground. Great for hiding. They never found me. I’d stay hidden until my loving dad came home. He was my saving hero — and I loved that tree!

    1. Rob, your love of life is a joy to read through the poetry. That’s a fine specimen of a willow. It looks happy and healthy. I can see why seeing your wife admire it ignited your love for her.

    2. I think of a willow as a sensual presence, whether it’s the leaves stroking the water of a passing stream or the branches slowly stirring in a breeze. You bring that out with this haibun, Rob.

      1. I loved that tree! It was under its branches, and in the attic of our garage, that I honed my imagination. My youth was a strange mix of love and terror. I loved the father who adopted me, and showed me how love felt. I have learned to forgive my mother. I realize she grew up in a nightmare of her own.

    3. What a wonderful tale of beauty and love… love all the descriptive adjectives in this as well…

    4. Lovely romantic writing.

      I too grew up retreating under a willow – not for your reasons but just because I was introverted and dreamy. I think it was Robert Graves who claimed that prolonged proximity to a willow would turn one into a poet. Well, you and I are the living proof!

    5. A willow’s kiss
      Reaches deep.
      Joy sings
      But it always parts
      Sometimes with passing
      If not with tilting hearts
      So hold dear the bliss,
      Willows know already
      It’s not to soon to weep.

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