maelynslavik

birdsong woke us at five a.m., the washed-out dawn

altogether too bright. wake-up bugle wasn't til eight, time spent

rolling over and over listening to the screen doors slam.

it rained the night of our arrival -

big, whooshing gasps of whitewashed rain & thunder that

shook heavy against the darkening skies. dinner went long.

we only sang louder, deafening echoes beneath the storm as

I love you.

I know that’s just me

And you

And there are hundreds

Of millions

Of haters

Of hated.

But I love you.

But you’re my best friend.

I love you for phone calls

the air tastes like honey and promise 

sticky with the scent of blooming jasmine 

and freshly cut grass that crunches beneath bare feet 

the sky drips blue 

stretching wider every afternoon 

Some call it “just kicking a ball”

but I call it

a part of my soul,

my heart.

A part of 

who I am.

On the field,

Beautifully complex

Yet seemingly simple

It flows from fingers and mouths

It flows from metal and wood

It floats on the breeze

Swaying the leaves in the trees

A bow on a string