The Old Willow Tree

Sitting silently
by the
old willow tree,
I heard a knocking
through the thick,
rustic bark.

My thoughts drifted,
thawing the frigid
quiet in my mind.
For there was naught behind,
nor in front,
of the old willow tree.

"What could it be,"
my mind asked me.
"And from where is it coming from?"
And then, from above,
there was a deep, low hum.
A light flashed, and I was
blind.