That Tennis Ball (poem)

I wish I could inhabit a moment

so completely

as my dog does when he sees

that tennis ball.

The sudden freeze. Focus. Eyes locked. Perpetually-wagging tale –

paralysed with purpose.

A prey drive entranced,

and when I reach for the ball, his gaze follows my hand

all

the

way

down.

Fingers brush yellow, drool-crusted fuzz. A light grip. His eyes rise and his lithe body stains with a desperate need for movement.

He waits

and waits

His every instinct: completely and utterly focused on

that tennis ball

and when the ball leaves my hand the tension in his bones shatters.

I wish I could inhabit a moment so completely

that I didn’t mind repeating it

dozens of times,

as he does every morning.

I throw the ball. He returns it. There is no new outcome to this game we play

and yet it exhilarates.

I wish I could love the little things;

the rituals and games and conversations

repeated with no new outcomes,

the way that he loves

that tennis ball


Bonus poem: Time is you

Not a reckoning; a slow awakening.
A mindful turn from old to new.
Taking it slow, taking the time,
because time isn’t money – it’s you.


PS – I love writing and I love eating! If you want to help with the latter (and ONLY if you want) you can maybe buy me a coffee?  🙂

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One thought on “That Tennis Ball (poem)

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