Have I changed so much?
Sitting beneath the umbrella
of the Weeping Willow
hiding weeping windows. 
They just need cleansing,
I tell myself, surrendering.
Have I changed so much?
Knowing the answer.
Every moment,
Branches sway,
side to side,
Wind shifting
combing grass,
a living/dying carpet
cradles me.
Weeping Willow weeps
its blossoms floating
in empathy
floral confetti
for my pity parade.
Though it
thinks I’m just being
a Pussy Willow.
Birds fly and sing,
wind continues to blow,
sun still shines
playing peek-a-boo
with clouds,
as a ladybug lands
ever so gracefully
on a blade of grass.
A V-shaped flock
passes high above.
Where are we going?
Wherever it is,
we will never
be the same.
M. Zane McClellan

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