The varigated willows
bend beneath my hands;
they've missed me
Like children, leggy
and wayward, their
tender leaves curve
to my hands gently
setting limits
softening the earth,
my fingers
meet earthworms
enthusiastic and satiated;
necessary, welcome friends
without thought,
I become the quiet
of their days
my bones soften;
a curved smile
and cheek turn to sun
welcoming
and expectant
as my willows
Heather Reed
