This willow tree fascinates me. We planted the small twig of a thing the year our youngest son was confirmed.
In the summer the branches dip to the ground creating the perfect place to sit on a blanket and pretend. I can do that because I’m a writer, otherwise people might think it a bit odd to see an woman under the tree staring up at this:
The way the branches twist and turn makes me think of mind mapping a story. The outer beauty of the tree makes me think of people. The way we present a nice outside appearance, but inside we’re twisted, knotted and dying in ways no one knows about.
Wendell doesn’t see all of the things I do.
He sees birds.
For more a2z visit Patty Wysong.
posted by Diana Lesire Brandmeyer
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