It was nothing special
Just a spiral near the shore –
A place the lake forgot to water
Then the currents carried to it a
Fragment – flotsam –
From a weeping willow tree
Still green, recalling clearly
What it was to be with others
Alive in a family of tree.
Now independent,
The branch flirts
Spinning slowly
Leaves dipping and teasing
At the eddy's edge
Never allowing full embrace:
That would mean
Being devoured.
The eddy does not draw in
Its newfound companion
On pain of
Being choked, strangled,
Stifled into nothingness.
And so they spin
Together apart
Locked forever
In loving combat.
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