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.


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!!!