an open field

The weeping willow, despite its name, its curtain of low-sweeping boughs, does not weep over what is lost,does not grieve. after her death watching the rain meeting the river Beneath the bark, a layer of living cells divides and multiplies, expanding sapwood and heartwood, stretching the bark until it cracks and sheds to fit the new girth. laughter lines— the scar around my breast faded now Growth: out into the world, down into the dark earth, and up into the light. Contemporary Haibun Volume 10 Red Moon Press 2009