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.

I’m saddened to see that the lone, barren tree

No longer holds cherry pink flowers.

The sky is dark gray and the forecast today

Is for intermittent showers.

Winter is here although Spring may be near

If the groundhog cannot see his shadow.

Since ice has been thinner, seems Spring is the winner

While Winter days laze short and slow.

And although in my heart I’d prefer Spring to start,

Winter’s freedom rules when to depart.