Time will come

Time will come

Perhaps not for me

But for somebody

Somewhere.

The Willow tapping Morse code on the window pane

Seems to know more about it than I do

But all the hours spent

Trying to decipher the message

Has made it no clearer

Got me no nearer to knowing.

I even tried cutting it back

Tying the branches down

Pruning and shaping

All to no avail

It will not be silenced

I am afraid the message is not for me.

The last time we lay together

It was very quiet

I remember how restful it was,

You fell asleep with your head on my shoulder

I don’t think I’ve ever come closer to heaven.

Not that I believe

But if I could see you once again

Then maybe all these nights

Of misunderstanding

The signifiers

Would be worthwhile.

I know the branches move with the wind

Even in daylight

But they seem to lose their voice

Perhaps they just can’t compete

With the intervention of sunlight.

The stealth of Jayhawks

The bustle of street vendors

The hustle of money-makers

Shaking the dust out of the day.

Ignoring the sweep of a willow

The spinning fall of an autumn leaf.

Turning a deaf ear to the world

Too bent on progress,

To listen to the wind

Drowning its sorrow

The gathering of its soul,

Over a conference call.

As, all the while,

Above their heads

Old trees continue to commune

In a breathless rustle

Of unbroken communication.