WILLOW POEM

web | The Sun Is but a Morning Star

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 loth 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.

1921

© William Carlos Williams
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© E-publisher LiterNet, 17.09.2009
The Sun Is but a Morning Star. Anthology of American Literature. Edited by Albena Bakratcheva. Varna: LiterNet, 2008-2010