Jonathan ROBIN (22 September / London)
Weeping Willow – Sweeping Reply
Though gravestones guard old bones in time each must
sweep weeping willow’s souvenir away.
When cycle turns, stone band turns sandy dust
to flake stretched grief, etched sojourn's fleeting stay.
Fears which with tears faced Death’s danced interplay
must give the nod to sod when chased is lust.
The potter spins, limbs underpin limned clay,
wheels weal beyond unjust decay, cussed [c]rust.
No morn need mourn with darkness peeled away
concealment’s [c]reed unreeled as trust through trust
helps healed heart start, reveals heaved pulse display
defray flesh phase, phrase future with fresh thrust.
Still, let will spill the sorrow willow weeps,
fulfilled soul, whole, refilled, tomorrow reaps.
No light-winged dryad teams trees' streams descend,
no steward ents amid day's brake may move,
time works with stealth, shirks wealth, pride's trace remove,
while silent roots tomorrow's shoots extend.
Crowned canopy and branchwork downward send
through subtle photosnthesis light's waves,
while upward rises sap from root-tapped caves
well weave well's spells, give leave for leaves to tend
new shoots which to the passing breezes bend
in dance entrancing, beckoning: no slaves
could emulate the dream-theme scene which saves
much midnight magic stored for future friend.
Along time's river willows bank dew, keep
due streaming watch 'til all turn in Styx sleep.
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