Under the Willow
Underthe willow wherethe falling pollenpowdered your faceI think of the firstwind that blewon the first willowby this lake
the airscarcely swayedthe stamens as it passedbut that pollen-toucha billion winds agosired the shadeof our desperatebrief embrace
that firsttree never caredwhere the wantonwind had gonenor does this nowremember her ghostly fatheras she feedson her mother's mould
how much kinder than loversdo they meet and partin the green-blood world
From Star-People. Reprinted with permission of Kathleen Forsythe, Cogswell's literary executor. Back to Selected Poems