The Willow which Was


July 3, 2018 by petrujviljoen

Cat’s grooming, ashtray’s overfull the bed
remains unmade, I’m still in it. An empty
plate, precarious, on the edge. The note-

books and poetry books and the sun’s
streaming the wind – has blown over the
long lifeless willow. Only this morning

still, there, a presence …
Woodpecker’s nest drilled to a near
perfect depth now halved and exposed

in the crash which passed me by.
Wading through the weeds, still in my
slippers, paying respect to the dead, the

fled and the unused. Dirt road shows
yesterday’s tracks in the light of the
pale sun hanging high.

willow digital render MG_6328 copy (344x459)

Copyright Petru J Viljoen

10 thoughts on “The Willow which Was

  1. qbit says:

    I really love this. Agreed, it is one of your best.

  2. memadtwo says:

    Mornings can be like that…(K)

  3. Nan Mykel says:

    I love the here-and-nowness of the poem! A poem begun in bed while thinking, surrounded by writing. And walking through the weeds in your slippers to pay respects–I love it.

  4. Wow. I think this is one of your best.

  5. Alexander De says:

    Beautiful words. Beautiful art.

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