The willow tree,

Sprouts in early spring.

Effortlessly swaying in the breeze,

Perfectly at ease.

It’s many branches synchronized together,

In the refreshing weather.

The wind gently blows,

As the willow tree continues to grow.

The willow tree,

Protects us in late summer.

On a scorching hot summer day,

All the plants seek shade.

They find their relief,

Each one hiding under a leaf.

The tree continues to thrive,

To all creatures from ferns to mice.

The willow tree,

Changes colors in fall.

As autumn rolls around,

Leaves begin to fall to the ground.

The willow catches ablaze,

With orange hues of every shade.

All too soon,

There are no more leaves in bloom.

The willow tree,

Finally, it rests in winter.

Although it is cold and alone,

It is not lonely.

A white blanket snow,

Brings a winter wonderland show.

Tired from the long journey,

The willow tree sighs,

And finally closes its eyes,

Until next spring.