maelynslavik

I gently sketch the branches
of a great pine tree.
I craft them to be delicate 
but sturdy.
They hold power,
strength, and glory.
I draw the ground high,
so I can show
the roots that ground it.

My fingers dance across my keys,
My lips bend into my embouchure,
And a soft note arises.  
My fingers know what to do,
Shifting and caressing,
punching a code into the instrument.

I snip the wire, letting it fall.
The shard flutters into my hand,
Willing to lend me a chance.
I begin to bend, twist,
And twirl the copper string.
I manipulate the metal,
Braiding it, and entwing it

Equations stretch across a gridded page,
Looking like a jumble of lines and curves,
But they answer questions,
That have been wondered for ages, 
And they solve the riddles of our world,

The flowers of your personality
Are always in full bloom.
The bees buzz around them,
Inspired by your strength.
The weeds are not present,
Repelled by your stance.
The hummingbirds flutter,
Admiring your peace.

The rain pitter-patters against the roof,
Dripping down the sides.
The pipes treat the steady streams
Like a water slide,
Twisting and turning their way down.
The constant drops thrum in my ears,
Echoing like a shout in a cave.