Pussy Willow


I’m looking at them now

the fluffy flowers

contrasting cream against 

the blue of the sky

pussy-willow

in all its glory,

alive with bees

standing in line

each waiting

her turn

to fill 

her baskets with pollen.

But time passes

and soon leaves will form

and the flowers

turn to seed

gossamer

parachutes

flying away

in search of pastures new

only to be reborn

in a shape

that can’t ever forget 

its past.


https://poetrywivenhoe.org/todays-poem/


Day 491 of the daily new poems.  William Wordsworth was born on this day 7 April, in 1770.  


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