Monday, March 5, 2012

There is always hope

This fine day



Out popped the sun after eight or

nine months of winter, like a big

fat baby, but people being people bitched

about the cold. That damned cold sun,

they whined. I dashed outside

at first light in a short skirt, hair hiked
into pigtails like a harlot and pretended

to be warm, even drank some cold beer

before noon (alternating with smooth sips

from a pewter flask) in the brisk wind

with that damned cold sun on my face

while a flock of band-tailed pigeons cooed

in a big oak at the edge of the ninth tee.

The greens ran fast and the mud didn’t

plash past my ankles for once

in a long, long while. Blue sky shimmered

overhead like an impossible dream,

as improbable as hitting a decent drive

or a straight putt. I breathed in the cool,

green spring, cherished that damned cold sun,

shivered with delight, and cursed

this damned impossible game instead.

2 comments:

Craig Sorensen said...

Awesome. True for the winter seasons, and true for those winter gaps in our lives.

As always, well done!

Gina Marie said...

Hooray & happy to see you back in Blogland, Craig!!!