A star in shrouds of gossamer down,
silver rays, fluorescent moon,
the heavens on earths brow, a crown,
the suns new day is soon.
A willow beckoning to the wind,
in glade of green, by riverside,
as stooped as mortal who has sinned,
as restless as the full moons tide.
Laurie hill
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/willow-8/
