A polish legend tells the tale, Of tiny kittens, oh so frail. Along the rivers edge they chased, With butterflies they played and raced. They came too close to the rivers side, And thus fell in, their mother cried. What could she do but weep and moan? Her babies fate was 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 were 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 hung.
And that's the legend so they claim, How pussy willows got their name.

                                                              
     Ramblings of the claury