© 2015 by Carla Braidek

Red Willow Baskets

elder
I don’t even recall your name
remember instead your hands
brown with wrinkled skin and strong
the second knuckle on your right hand
large with old injury
the slash across your thumb
healed in a ridge

elder
who gave me baskets of willow
your smooth voice wove words of supple wisdom
like the willows we cut carefully
you explained how to test for strength
what to select and what to reject
how to find the breaking point

you spoke of the future
the tending of the patch
how to trim the branch
just above the bud
to ensure it gave new growth
to bend about a sturdy frame

for frame you recommended ash
straight and true
branches parting from the stem in clean duality
wood honest enough to hold shape

elder
every basket you fashion ferries your words
beyond the bend of each withy
through each arc of ash