Two trees

Their soccer game now at an end,

my daughter and her best friend talk

little-girl talk beneath a tree,

sweaty hair clinging to their brows.

Carrot sticks, juice boxes, cookies,

sandwiches all tilt on the spread.

Cross-legged and knee-to-knee, they

sit in the shade of a maple

that has mixed with cedar. The two

trunks are wound as one, but higher

the trees split apart, the cedar

standing mainmast straight, the maple

flying out like a spinnaker,

the young crew in its lee. I wait

on the shore watching, and wishing

such a boat might never be hauled,

that sail never stowed for winter.

(c) Copyright 2001. The Christian Science Monitor

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