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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