Pussy Willows
A gift from my daughter brings
memories of wandering
with my cousin on the flats
wild as the wild horses we tried
to coax with tufts of grass.
They would only come so close.
And pussy willows we found there,
impossibly soft grey kittens
on a branch, miracles of spring
signaling the movement of sap
in beings of green, beginning
again.
Now they sit in a vase on my table
evoking the wildness of Spring
in a way that store bought flowers
never could.
Kamala's Poetry Blog 