ride

Parched

Just as

Dry as hot

Dirt and grey-green

Sage surrounding my

Bike path through shallow hills

Made by ants and ground squirrels,

Wheels bumping over roots until

Suddenly pavement smooths the ride

And I’m tracing figure-eights around sage.

Tennis,

I think,

This old court

Like a cracked scab

Splotchy white lines still

Delineating team

Prickly Pear versus Sage Brush

Forget about former players,

Court now bleached and faded as their ghosts.

We are the only ones playing here now.

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Shared on dVerse. Double Etheree poem structure.