Growing Up

We spent our summers

In the roaring crowd of birds and trees,

Swimming in the lake, picking sticky grapes

For homemade wine and making bouquets

Of wildflowers. We often walked along the meadows

To catch butterflies, only to release them

And to observe the solemn river

Carrying in its slow, steady stream

Dirt, branches and litter,

Unable to free itself of the heavy load

And enjoy a youthful flow once more.