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The Willow Tree is a Storyteller


The willow tree’s a storyteller- words brushed the ground. The wind, her jealousy as temptress, bristled in my veins as the cold lowered her ire.

It is time to think on death. It is time to reach inside. It is time to make my voice known. The wind, her jealousy as temptress. The willow tree’s the storyteller- hope fell happily across her lap.

The monstrousness is that of man garnering knowledge, discovering who he’s always been is far harder than he could ever have imagined.


© 2011 by mark prime


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