sitting still, i look out the window,
where weeds as deep as a child's dreams
waft like wild willows by the pond.
against the shove of the wind,
the weeds flutter in effortless streams,
left and right with the gentle drift from above.
i close my eyes and surrender to the curtain of willows,
into the whirl of cascading dreams,
falling softly onto a pillow of whispery clouds.