This morning as I was walking into a meeting, these two willows were shining in the early light, emanating that incandescent glow of spring leaves. I thought of long, golden tresses and Rapunzel. I thought of how when I was a kid, a willow bough made the best "whip" to use when I pretended I was a horse. The willow tree image that used to be carved in old gravestones came to mind, and I wondered how such a glorious tree came to have such a melancholy association. Weeping willows--why not shining hair willows? The Joan Armatrading song "Willow" began playing on my "head radio": "I'll be your shelter in a storm, I'll be your willow, your willow..." and I wondered how much shelter a willow really provides. The willow next door flings its branches all over our yard whenever there's wind, and one of its larger branches actually wiped out our neighbor's power line in a big storm last year. But these trees, they inspired me to dig out my camera, take a photo. And then I went into my meeting.
Arboreal muse,
no wonder your boughs hang down--
poetic baggage.
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