We'd get together,
me and my friends
on those hot August days,
and start hiking

first into the neighborhood,
then out through wild peaches, plums, and pine trees
growing thick in sand and clay,
until looking around,
it may was well have been 10,000 miles from anywhere.

Its hot in Georgia
but we didn't care
because our hearts were good
and there's no sitting still anyway
when you're 9 years old.

There was a cemetery along the way
with stone grave lids
all slid aside
so you could maybe see down
into the coffins
if fool enough,

and a hunter's blind
someone built
to shoot birds from,
where older kids
left their beer bottles and underwear
for us to wonder about.

Eventually we'd come
to the reservoir

and stand up on the dam
looking steep down the slope to the water
all cool and shiny
so far below.

It was magic
for us still just learning
not to fear the space beyond
arm's reach,

and thus
those memories
came gilded
in bright shining silver

so that now
when life seems not so
wondrous

if any of us think to do it
we can pull out
them Summer days
and make it all real again

just like back when
the peaches and plums
hung free
for the picking.

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