Badminton

Feathered moon in midair flight,
 A shuttle sings between two minds,
 Strings hum truth with every strike,
 Quick as breath, as sharp as time.

Footsteps drum on varnished ground,
 White lines hold a silent vow,
 Up and back the bird is bound,
 Will and wrist decide the now.

Sweat becomes a second skin,
 Eyes stay lit, the world goes small,
 In this dance of loss and win,
 We learn how to rise — or fall.