The Cottonwood

The old cottonwood tree  
stands in the park by the  
creek. It gave us shade while  
fishing from the bank.  
 
There was an older boy  
who put my crickets on the  
hooks since I was squeamish  
and hated to see them suffer.  
His name was Josh and he  
was cute. Josh and I came back  
a few nights later and made love  
on a blanket underneath that  
cottonwood. The park lights  
couldn’t reach us and no one  
walked there after dark.    
 
Now, I’m grown and this cottonwood  
hasn’t aged a day that I can see. Josh died  
young and only this tree and I remain.  
I marvel at the cottonwood and how she  
keeps her secrets.