Summer Time....

The six of us walk down, most hand in hand. Past the green bushes and the Virginia creeper, past the oak trees, avoiding random dying patches of poison ivy, through the ant hill and onto the rocks. Following a well warn path, that was weaved through enough time to keep an area to walk but that still had branches to make legs scratch. All with the final result of ending up at the swimming hole. It is so hot outside, the water is cold, but it doesn't matter to each body it feels good to have a different sensation than that of feeling sweat and short of breath from being smothered by the devil rays of the sun. Jump in, compare the hardness of nipples, and laugh, complain about how cold it is, only none of the six really mean any complaint. A seventh comes and begins to play guitar, summer songs, "Rocky Raccoon". One judging if its possible to jump from a boulder to the other side of the river, two others holding hands talking in whispers of only items they would understand if said any louder, one floating bye, one holding on to the other,and finally one sitting and watching. This is the truest summer.