A willow tree wept in the wind;
No one but my heart heard it,
No one but the meadowlark bowing in the bend
Of the limb, unspoken, unworded.
The light passed like hands through the clock of time
On its leaves and in its branches,
And the greenery danced in May's waiting rhyme
Full of summer's second chances.
A willow tree wept in the wind,
Whispering cream and emerald:
Cream of the light which the heavens sent,
Rimmed with the gems past dim worlds.
Open my heart, willow tree, and shake it
Like the buds which burst in yearning,
Lest June in her haste shall come and take it
Before May's final turning.