Along the narrow path they moved slowly. Large droplets of water had formed on the branches above, and the occasional coolness splashed their huddled faces. They did not hold hands, or have their arms around one another. But their demeanor suggested an intimacy of sorts. The fluid motion of the gestures, coupled with their endearing ease and comfort, spoke to this. The narrow path led to a large lake that stretched along the horizon. From beneath the dripping branches they passed. While they were not along the shore of this lake, they were close enough to hear the patter of rain. The gentle consistency of the splashing, the moisture that clung to their young supple skin, the aroma of the passing spring, of meadows and sand and slick stone engrossed the two pseudo-lovers almost along the shore of this lake.
A small animal, rabbit, shot out from the nearby brush and disturbed our two lovers in their seclusion. To their dismay the magic of the moment escaped a little, like the air from a balloon, but remained, more than half full. The moment was still graceful, and our young lovers did not know any better. There was no fleeing, or fighting or preventing, to concern our gentle, bare two. Lightly clinging to their necks and chests and the taut of their backs was a smooth slippery shield that prevented forethought and foreboding.
They were in this together, enjoying the quiet patter of their private lake. There was no future to concern or plot or plan. It was presently slipping away and forever present.
He reached up his arm and pulled from an overhead limb a maple leaf that had slightly lost its green newness. He held this leaf between his fingers and could feel the life still present. He plucked this leaf from above his head, condemning to death, this dying color. And bringing it down to show his young pseudolover, his elbow brushed her damp dark hair. Her eyes turned to his as he showed her the leaf of life, and she took it from him quickly and carelessly tossed it aside. And they were free.