By one notion, Cleo rose in the Van Lear morning.…
Willow
Who will make
Your long bed,
Smooth your grass quilt,
fluff your stone pillow?
Who will tuck
the dry dirt
under your chin,
sing in my place
in the songless night
under bright dots of light
in the dark, curved sky,
sing Willow?
Sing Willow.
Sing Willow.