Weeping Willows


The willow trees stood still as life passed slowly by them. They were the watchers, as old as the soil itself their roots had paved the ground. Their bodies were dressed in a bark, so well carved and detailed that not even DaVinci’s brush could master its definition. Their leaves fell from the heavens forming an enclosed haven beneath their falls. The bright sun showered down upon them through threatening clouds while the great lake, which quenched the trees thirst, wrinkled like an old man’s smile. Even the freshly cut grass seemed to sway a bit in the warm summer breeze unsure of its place in the world.

The willow trees stood tall and still. They gazed down upon the open fields and the shadows that they cast upon them. Families and friends were brought together and reunited beneath their shade. As the soft breeze blew, their branches and leaves rubbed together creating the mellow willow’s song. The trees stood tall. Tiny beetles, swarms of ants, caterpillars, and chirping birds infested the great trees limbs to make their homes, but the willows did not mind. Even when the heavens thundered and the misty sky lay its blanket of raindrops upon the earth the trees stood tall knowing that rain meant life. As time passed slowly by them one ancient willow wondered... “Why are we weeping?”

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