The Poem as a One-Sided Conversation

We’re talking to ourselves in the Garden

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A Conversation With My Aged Pussy Willow

Hang in there old friend
You’ve been my herald of spring
For four decades making me
Smile when your fuzzy little
Catkins appear – a sign that
Winter will soon be gone
Hang in there old friend
I’ll do my part to keep you
Healthy, pruned, pest free
I’ll spread compost around your
Trunk to keep you fed and when
Summer droughts arrive I will
Quench your thirst
You were my first shrub, planted
With loving hands in the
Corner of our yard
Together we have watched the
seasons change
Hang in there old friend