A willow tree stood alone
far off in a worn-out field
long overgrazed until only prairie dog mounds
dotted the once-verdant expanse;
bones of that tree stood out in sharp relief
against the sullen sky,
buds not yet formed;
wispy branches blowing in the wind
presaging the storm that would come
while across the road and in front of me,
a band of bright sunshine emerged
shimmering from behind a cloud bank;
I drove through it
and watched the willow tree
standing watch over the field
in the rearview mirror
as I drove
into the heart of the storm.