sitting still, i look out the window,

where weeds as deep as a child's dreams

waft like wild willows by the pond.


woken by a shove of the wind,

the weeds flutter in effortless streams,

left and right with a 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.