No wind in these willows
though the poplars tremble
and blackbird clucks warning.
Silent this earth,
that is ours to labour if we will.
Once we held the dreams of a clutch,
kept the wolves at bay.
Once night fell and sleep came easy,
easy as the contentment of babies,
rocked in our spreading boughs.
Stars still fall, but no one can find them;
they dart like timid fish among the silver grasses.
Once we thought it was enough
to wish and rock and spread,
our roots gripping this earth,
that this birdsong, day and night-haunting,
would fall into their ears too,
like the placid embrace of a lake.
But seeds, once scattered,
fallen like bright stars into the green ocean, grow,
and the sun will rise in the west
before these beloved seedlings
will weave their roots with ours.
Jane Dougherty Writes 
Such beautiful imagery, Jane.
“But seeds, once scattered,
fallen like bright stars into the green ocean. . .”
Your roots are strong, but who can predict what your seedlings will do?
We can’t predict and it’s wrong to try and force them to like what we like. It’s also the imperatives, to find work, find a partner, scattering.
Yes, but we can’t help what we want and wish either. (As long as we keep it to ourselves.) 🙂 The clichés–as long as they’re happy and healthy–are true.
You’re right. Parents have a nasty habit of secretly knowing best though 🙂
Well, of course. We just have to let them know stealthily. 😉
🙂 Does it work?
Sometimes. . . 🙂
🙂
They do leave, but sometimes they circle around again. And roots can travel far…(K)
Roots run far and deep. A good line for a poem.
Yes
Stars darting like fish in the grass. What a lovely, lovely image!
Thank you! It took me a while to make this poem.