The Pussy Willows

Many years ago
During a very dark time
A shroud hung over my thoughts
Lost and confused   
I got into my car
And started to drive.

Like a horse that heads to the barn
When given free rein
My green VW bug drove me home
To Cooperstown.

My parents were away
The house was locked up
I knew where the key was hidden
If I had wanted to go inside
But I didn’t
Instead I walked across the street
Down through the pasture
Behind the barns

It was late April
Most of the field was brown
With the remnants of grass and current spring mud.
Fallen stalks of goldenrod
Broken by the heavy snows of winter
Criss-crossed in a mat beneath my feet

I can still feel that moment
Arriving at the pussy willows
In the spring of 1983.

Ah, pussy willows
Bare sticks with furry gray catkins attached
No spectacular color
No showy strength
Soft wet ground underneath

I absorbed their presence for the longest time
Reaching up
Stroking the catkins
Walking slowly through the little grove
Sighing
Pondering
Weeping

As the sun dipped lower
A chill settled over the field
I got back in my car
And drove back to Syracuse
Nothing had changed
Yet everything had
Thanks to a grove
Of pussy willows.

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This poem is in response to this week’s prompt for W3:
When life becomes overwhelmingly busy, we often dream of having time to ourselves. … Have you ever experienced such a moment? …What did the quiet teach you? …What thoughts, memories, or emotions does it awaken in you?