Under the Weeping Willow Tree

The summer I was seven

I took my first air flight

From Los Angeles to Boston

Where my dad would reunite

With long-time college buddies

And their Boston families, too

In a large and lushly landscaped yard

For a Sunday barbeque.

A giant weeping willow tree

With fronds that touched the ground

Was wide enough to hide nine kids

If we barely make a sound.

So, we disappeared beneath the fronds

And played a tackling game

With big kids wrestling big kids

And smaller kids, the same.

I took a liking to a boy

Named Sammy (he was eight)

And the tomboy still within me

Wrestled him with all my weight.

I held him down with arms and legs

Till “Let me up!” he pleaded,

“I’ll give you a kiss if you agree to this.”

One kiss is all I needed.