I am waiting by the willow tree. And a wonderful song.

(April is poetry month. New poetry number twenty-six.)

I am waiting by the willow tree.

An old place near the Clinton River, old willow trees reaching for the sky and the river.

It is my place to heal, my place to think, my place to write for 50 years.

Ojibwa people believe the places where the willow trees grow. A blessed place.

I set up my healing stones and I burn some sage. “I thank the Clinton River and

the willow tree for allowing me to have a place to know peace.

I tell the flowing river, please help my world.

Wars are being fought everyone, children are dying and

a billion tears are dropping for the babies killed before knowing life.

Ugly men are running our world, no mercy for the sick, no mercy for the people needing food.

Please dear forest tells the greedy leaders in the USA, Israel and Russia.

Every life had value. Please dear Africa. Stop the war.

We need a strong Africa to heal our world. Rich nation wanting more wealth. No concern for life,

only concern for profit. Please lord of life and death. Protect the water, protect the forest and

protect the air we breathe. Thank you dear willow tree and the Clinton River allowing me

to pray and know calmness.”

I walk into the river following my dog, Sergeant. The cold feel good and I tell the sun and sky,

thank you for good health and a good day.

John