The Swing

Making my way outside close to dusk, my friends and I ran down the street.

North, we ran towards the Indian trails.

Down the trails we fell like the sun, running and sliding down the wild sage trails.

Past the large rock over Dumetz we went.

Across the street and over up the other hill we climbed.

We ran past wild weeds, pepper and eucalyptus trees as the smell awakened our desire to reach the swing on the hill.

The free swing on a rope with a wood seat.

We took turns flying over the hill that dropped far below.

We challenged gravity as the sun set and the stars smiled; we were breathing, laughing with our youthful joys.

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