tell me more about the willow.
I will braid the branches of
your beautiful hair as I listen.

tell me what sustains you
through the long, cold nights of
winter's dark and quiet moments.

does spring forever return,
and I see you giving shade to
the children you embrace beneath.

tell me more about the willow,
the fire burns hot, the lantern low,
and my fingers are lost in your hair.

I will listen.

The rain beats and batters the silence
of this otherwise quiet and solitary night.

I look out the window and at first glance see
two separate raindrops, sliding down the glass.
They slide, one beside the other...and as if by
the magic of magnetics, they roll together and merge,

sliding as one, the two raindrops fall...
down the sill and and with a sound of softness,
they land upon the grass below.

It is spring...the grass is growing.

I have always known you as kindness,
you guide me through to a calmer place.

Like that raindrop.

The day goes on,
the sadness grows on,
and I feel a cold chill
deep, deep inside my heart.

Alone

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were — I have not seen
As others saw — I could not bring
My passions from a common spring —
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow — I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone —
And all I lov'd — I lov'd alone —
Then — in my childhood — in the dawn
Of a most stormy life — was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still —
From the torrent, or the fountain —
From the red cliff of the mountain —
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold —
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by —
From the thunder, and the storm —
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view —