Willow Tree, Brugge, Belgium

As a child, I used to play beneath the willow tree near the water’s edge at my grandparents’ house. My grandmother died when I was 4 years old. My whole world changed after that. But the sweet feeling of safety beneath the skirts of that tree’s branches will forever be wrapped in memories of my Grandma Fran. Lately I’ve been dreaming of willow trees. During my vacation in Belgium and The Netherlands this summer, I got to re-experience the childhood joy of being sheltered by the willow’s branches!

Beneath the willow tree, Brugge, Summer 2011

 

Nostalgia

The weeping willow tree

is a woman whose long skirts

and long hair

make a curtain for our play.

The weeping willow tree

brushes the grass with her fingertips

brushes the clouds with her lashes.

The weeping willow tree

sweeps her gaze across the emerald lawn

sweeps her gaze across the silent bay.

The weeping willow holds us while we play.

She holds our memories.

She wrote this music with the wind.

Copyright 2011 Tzivia Gover

Willow, Kerkrade, The Netherlands, June 2011

ZZzzZZzzZZzzZZzzZZzz

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