"7 Haikus"
by A.S. Poland
The child's bowling ball.
Slowly it rolls to a halt.
He still wants no help.
A game of dodge ball.
One by one
We fall like soldiers.
Running the track.
It stretches on and on.
I fall behind.
With the chosen club I swing.
That white ball remains
And only dirt is flying.
He slides into home.
A cloud of dust engulfs him.
It clears: he is safe.
Playing by the woods.
We pass and steal and score.
Are the trees watching?
I dribble the ball
And without warning he comes
To snatch it away.
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