By: ShinigamiForever

while puffs of slivered cotton
and heat float in the air.
The slushed mud and water on the ground
lemonade of dandelions
that flies drink from, drink like rice wine.
The green of trees painted on their shirts,
kicking arrowed balls at nets.
Repetitive, something about
the movement of feet
and cooridinated arms.
Something about vitality.
And a boy moves with nervous sporadic grace.
Sends his ball
like an enamel pigeon.