Alone Together

I knew every curve of the path we made through the woods behind our houses.
In under twenty seconds, I could propel myself to the top of our little hill.
Dashing through the winding vines, my jeans covered in sticky hitchhikers,
And breathing rapidly, laughing too, I would wait for you in the clearing.

Someone who came before us had left the semblance of a treehouse,
A ragged structure of old plywood making a platform in the canopy
Of oak branches and fresh-scented pines, a place where we could be
Alone together with our chatter of idealistic dreams and observations.

Alone together, is this state of being even possible? I ask myself now
That I often feel truly alone, marinating in worry, in cynical dismissals.
Youth's future vision is full of cloudless, ever-stretching horizons,
Eyes noting the tiniest, emerging green buds and crawling bugs.

In our shabby perch, our ears could still decipher the animals' song,
Our tongues able to discern the perfect ripeness of a sour muscadine,
And we picked them until our buckets were spilling over, and still
There were thousands more, in our protective canopy in the woods.

When we were very young, our happy voices joined in that chorus
Of blue jays and cardinals, croaking frogs, scuttling squirrel paws,
We sang at the top of our lungs a nonsensical, beautiful lyric,
The joy of being alone together amid beauty, on endless afternoons.