Visiting the willow tree was my reason for joining my uncle and cousin on their spring/summer fishing treks to the Washington Park lagoon, three blocks from our house and my grandmother’s flower garden where they dug up the worms for bait while I packed a picnic lunch because they never, ever caught any fish. While they baited their hooks at the edge of the lagoon, I climbed into the welcoming embrace of the sturdy willow branch that extended out over the water. With my back against the trunk and my feet dangling over the branch just inches from the water’s surface, I sang and cloud surfed and danced my whispered dreams. I skipped across the water with dragon flies, floated on the surface with the fallen willow leaves, inhaled spring and exhaled summer into the last autumn sunset.
Contributed by E. Kamuda, Chicago, IL