Pussy Willows

 I have always been fond of Pussy Willows. It's my Polish DNA.   I remember them being all around the creek beds when I was growing up in PA.   They are not common around here but several years ago a friend found and cut some for me from a hike in her northern area.  A Polish legend tells the tale

I posted this sketch and poem on my Facebook today.

Of tiny kittens, oh so frail.

Along the river's edge they chased.

With butterflies, they played and raced.

They came too close to the river's side,

And, thus, fell in. Their mother cried.

What could she do but weep and moan?

Her babies' fate were yet unknown.

The willows, by the river, knew

Just what it was that they must do.

They swept their graceful branches down

Into the waters, all around.

To reach the kittens was their goal;

A rescue mission, heart and soul.

The kittens grasped the branches tight.

The willows saved them from their plight.

Each springtime since, the story goes,

Willow branches now wear clothes.

Tiny fur like buds are sprung

Where little kittens once had clung.

And that's the legend, so they claim,

How Pussy Willows Got Their Name!

- Laura, 2016

{ Art by Anastasia Varnavskaya, special thanks to Louise, her FB Butterfly Cottage }