The Willows

By Corliss Clayton

Spring came again last week,

Waking grassy meadows

And crocuses that peeked

At blooming pussy willows.

The pussy willows shimmered,

Soft and rich and gray.

I picked one to remember

The cool, springtime days.

I rubbed it very gently;

The rich fur-feeling lingered—

Like holding robes of royalty

Right within my fingers.

Wealth for tickling my nose—

And little brother’s toes.

Illustrated by Jenae S. Westhoff