Clocked in, up and running.
Business is humming.
I'd rather be
raising hand to brow,
blocking the sun.
Trying to follow the white dimpled orb
souring five hundred yards (i wish!)
through blue skies.
Carrying 14 clubs on my back
(unless i rent a cart)
writing with half-pencils
(counting half my strokes!)
There's a meeting at ten.
chairs that rock and roll.
the din of the crowd calming
before the call to order.
Company is thriving.
I'd rather be
on my deck
inhaling colors
planted last week.
The wood curves
on my lap.
My fingers
dancing over
resonant
frets.
plucking the rythym
til the dogs stop howling!
If I was the ball
sailing
through cloudless sky.
landing with a thud
near the flag,
bouncing into the hole
before being placed on the tee
and hit again.
If I was the mellow note
carried through lillies
and thick purple maples
into oblivion.
I'd rather
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