A Piece of Poetry

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Willow Poem

By Carlos Williams

It is a willow when summer is over,

a willow by the river

from which no leaf has fallen nor

bitten by the sun

turned orange or crimson.

The leaves cling and grow paler,

swing and grow paler

over the swirling waters of the river

as if loath to let go,

they are so cool, so drunk with

the swirl of the wind and of the river –

oblivious to winter,

the last to let go and fall

into the water and on the ground.

I receive a Poem-a-Day everyday. I don’t read all of them, but this one I particularly liked. Especially those last few lines. This poem appeared in Williams’ book Sour Grapes in 1921. Now that’s one good title.

xxx Jedidiah

P.S. This poem is in the public domain.

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