Willow

A willow

Stands in a field,

Silent,

Alone,

Singing its song,

On the rustle of leaves

In the breeze.

Through the seasons

It stands,

Strong,

Nobley surveying the land,

Its branches,

Sheltering the birds,

Praising the heavens.

While the willow stands,

All will be well,

Its benevolent presence

A guardian against folly,

A beacon

Of wisdom

For generations to come.