The Globe Willow

An Assignment

The globe willow was wounded in the wind,
Mortally it would seem, split down the trunk.
But a healer of trees spread some gluey gunk
Along its inward grain hoping to rescind 
That death sentence with the help of a clamp
To weld its two halves together—a perfect fit.
Your mind and soul once felt that kind of split
From forces that blew out your waking lamp
Some time ago only to eventually awaken
From your own windstorm badly shaken
And nearly dead but living on to walk
Into a universe that healed you of the shock
And left you dancing towards your lovely fate
Whatever that may be—don't hesitate.

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