Hanging unflinchingly from the branch of
a willow tree, cracked by years.
I swing in this warm spring breeze,
such strength do I feel tethered by
this art-form, sculpture carved by years
of the gentle yet unyielding winds of the world.
I feel the warmth emanating from my chest,
down to the tips of my toes, naked
to feel the grass beneath them as
I drop.
I jump and hold my head up high
but just to
smell the lilacs nearby

I revel in the place of the willow trees
under the crimson tides of the setting skies
because they need not explain themselves
and tell me, nor do I.

So this is my masculinity
among the soft leaves of a willow tree.
At once, I am released
upon the unyielding winds.