The plumage of the willow

Flaunting its dense plumage, perching on the hill, the old wise willow, standing still. Fluffing up its feathers, with the slightest of breeze, chirping at intervals, rustling with ease. Seeing days go by, enlivening the place, enveloped by life, presenting its grace. Later, a cold day, brings spectators and a crowd, feeling this willow, nice…