we scamper onto the soccer field,
giggling, clandestine, senseless
lucy calls “go” and we start to spin…
long hair floods our faces;
pleated skirts swing in circles around our waists.
from afar they match the color of the sky
but up close
the interlocking threads are ocean green.
sun-drunk and sky-quenched
we collapse in syncopated rhythm
legs and arms splayed on the grass
fingers grasping for weeds to pluck.
we lay on the ground motionless
the world orbits us,
powered by our desperate breath
Comments