Beneath The Willow Tree

Beneath the limbs that touch the ground
I hide in here without a sound
I watch an ant making a trail
to where he wants, he does not fail.

There on that branch a tiny nest
A humming bird with a ruby breast
I see her search for petals bright
and I smile at her eratic flight.

A worn out rope to this limb clinges
where once a happy child swings
The mossy seat still holds me there
I lean way back and drag my hair.

This Place of comfort where I sit
A tiny cage where I just fit
My pen and paper in my hand
To speed me off to a magic land.