Voices on the Wind
Voices on Relaxation
Nine wickets placed around
the manicured lawn, two striped
end stakes wait for the first wooden
He waltzes in his white linen
pants and yellow tie, carrying
his red ball and mallet to the first
The ball placed before the stake,
he strikes sending it scurrying
through two wickets, properly
halting a meter away.
Foppish in his wingtips he parades,
circling the orbed missile, judging
his next hit, then eyeing his shot;
The rolling wonder wobbles toward
the gardenís edge stopping before its
next wicket, resting and ready for
The lady gives a quiet laugh and
gracefully sets her blue ball before
the stake, nestling it in soft green
Her large hat shields the sun. With
her long muslin skirt fluttering in
the breeze, she gently strikes the ball
through two wickets.
She smiles at her companion, saunters
to her target, and lightly taps the ball
again. It touches his blue ball enough
to send it out of bounds.
She knows she could have made a short
shot or knocked the blue orb askew, but
the crowd is cheerful, the sky is cloudless,
and summer will not last forever.