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Book of Days

BOOK OF DAYS: A POET AND NATURALIST TRIES TO FIND POETRY IN EVERY DAY

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December 10: Willow Wands

Kristen Lindquist

Yesterday's storm winds whipped tree branches all over our yard. The big willow next door, which already lost a big branch last winter, tossed little golden-barked wands all over the snowy front lawn.

Willows have always been associated with water. The weeping willow (often carved on old gravestones) makes us think of tears, of course, and willows generally live near water sources. This willow must have sucked up a lot of river water in its time (in addition to bursting our underground water pipe--but that's a story I'd rather not dwell on), so it carries a bit of the river's spirit in its veins. Despite several dams, the river is a wild thing, as is this willow, though planted many years ago by my neighbor.

So what to make of all these wands strewn across my lawn? What kind of magic do they possess? Was this some kind of throw-down by Old Man Willow? Or have they woven a protective spell on our little house? With wild magic, things can go either way.

Storm-strewn willow withes
weave their magic on my lawn,
wild as the river.