I hear the bells of Sainte Marie

Calling you to victory.

What’s that you say?

They’re merely calling you away.

“The bells! The bells!”

Your soul laments,

“Funerary elements.”

But are we hearing quite the same?

I hear them call me to the game,

To laugh and sing and sigh and hope.

The scope of life has been run down,

Ruled with dry white powder lines

Made from old sad complicated bones.

But life alone is fit to live

It sends animals and children 

To remind us to laugh and cry

And play and enjoy the day, easily,

On the playground where no school bells ring,

And where, secretly, all games are won,

And none are ever lost.

So free of cost,

Life yearns to be lived,

As an eternal spring break in the sun.

-jenn