Why does a willow?

By Jadyn Mardy, 18, Hempstead, NY

Why does a willow bend upside down,
Its branches floating by the ground,
Instead of reaching for the sky?
Who made it droop so low?
'Twas I.

It happened rather randomly, its branches towards the sky.
(For if you didn't know this – willows' branches once grew high.)
Bursting upwards like an oak, as sturdy as a pine,
And under it, when I was small, I'd play there all the time.
This tree and I grew very close, though I too small to climb,
I spent all days and nights by it
Until, one day, it cried.
Its sorrow filled the air itself and brought on golden tears.
Airy songs like chirping doves did leave me wrought with fear.

I didn't want the tree to cry
As its tears turned mud from soil.
And so I tried some remedies –
'Twas treated as a royal.
But nothing worked,
To no avail. Whatever could be wrong? 
Its branches, long and straight before, now bent with every song. 
Its leaves once reaching towards the sky now whipped and kicked and swayed.
The little pond that it sat on would gurgle in dismay. 

I covered my small ears at this, as weeping willow wailed
And wondered when the bended tree would tell me of its ails.
My ears would never rest until a potion could be found 
To lift the saddened willow's leaves 
From the dirty, grimy ground. 

"Sweet tree!" I cried, my own brown eyes now blurred with aching tears.
"Please tell me why you're weeping so, and I'll allay your fears!"
I stretched my head far back
To see its branches sway above
And placed my tiny hand around its leaf just out of love.
"I've done my best to keep your leaves from turning brown with mud, 
But tell me why you cry so low, transfixed by water suds!” 

Suddenly I braced myself as the bark than cracked and moaned 
The song that lilted on the wind straight to my ears were thrown –
Lyrics in a different tongue with ancient melody,
Softly, madly, crying sadly, told of its story. 

Oh tiny child, pigtails bright, I've grown attached to you!
Your gentle soul and heart of gold –
My love for you is true.
And yet I can't protect you like a mother loves her babe.
I cannot stroke your lovely face; all I do is give you shade.
Alas! My leaves do not reach far enough to give a longed embrace.
My willowed heart is broken as I cannot kiss your face!

I tried to calm and soothe the tree,
Upset and wanting hugs.
Its song of sorrow echoed as I touched its earthen bark.
"If only," I said sorrowfully, "your arms could reach the ground.
Regrettably your oaken shape, like pine, is upward bound!"

At this, the tree made up its mind,
Its oaken shape must go.
Giving one last anguished cry, it willed its branches grow. It
r   e   a   c   h   e   d   
        and
s t r e t c h e d
        and   
c u r v  e d 
itself; its fingered fronds slowly dropped!
Its branches thinning at the tips. A slender graceful swap.
Its glowing heart inside its trunk,
Its soul inside its roots,
Have inverted its willowed top
So that its leaves may droop. 
Its branches had turned from the sky, its leaves cascading low
So that the weeping willow tree
Could give me all its love.

It cried for joy, then kissed my forehead
And its leaves then fluffed my hair.
Its golden tears flowed freely as it finally hugged me near.
Its branches sounded of satin
And they flew freely as a silk.
While to it, I felt of clay and earth,
A flower yet to wilt. 

From here I picked the willow's name, 
Though its weeping has since gone.
Ever grateful that, for me, it wished to bend its fronds.
And every seed thereafter from this tree has felt it still,
Never keeping oaken form,
But bending down at will.
For willows feel so very deeply, unlike a pine or spruce.
They'd rather care for tiny humans running 'round their roots.
So welcoming, so motherly
They can't protect from up above.
That’s why a willow bends so low;
To see the ones they love.[Photo opposite page: By Claire Kodama, 14, Burnsville, MN – Glowing Tree]