Boulevards of grass
barbered in flattops,
borders of beach sand
and rough.
I am here to prove who I am
but being a novice
the bend of the wind
is a difficult gauge.
Father feels the air
with raised finger,
says don’t over think,
you can choose the wrong club
and be right,
it’s all about vision
the art of the game.
An ocean breeze flutters
my khakis.
Nothing obstructs
the view of blue sky.
