Willows

Tendrils through the fog
Reaching out for me
Like warm dry ice, the gray ghosts
Snake over old roots, mindlessly caressing
The sweet willow.
Pensive green strands brush along the waters edge,
looking into the water
and through it.
The reflection mirrors the willows thoughts,
then dissipates with meaning.
Jade liquid blinks at the tree, it remains unmoved.
Merely contemplative.
It sighs, the willow, and every strand of its leafy hair
flows besides the wind in mute elegance.