Entanglement

I met him on a county lane

a strong wild willow,

not weeping, or woolly,

but Salix viminalis,

straight and upright.

I could do with one of these,

I thought, something to grow

around my secret places,

an arbour to protect me

from prying eyes

and bitter winds.

I took some cuttings

pushed them in around

my private wooden seat.

He thrived and grew tall.

I was so sure of him

that I planted my little

delicate Jasmine at his feet.

Still he grew, but now

his trunk was bare

only leaves around his tips

leaning over the fence

giving pleasure to my neighbour.

Angry and fed up with bare stems

I decided to cut him down,

now I understood he was coarse

And cared only for the light.

But when I took my loppers

and began to hold his stems

in their sharp blades

I realised that Jasmine was entangled,

needed him for support. 

She had twisted herself 

around his stems.

I untangled her,

assured her I would 

find someone else 

and cut him down.

Although now she twists

around the plastic trellis

I haven’t seen her small white flowers

since I burnt Salix viminalis

on the autumn bonfire.