Troon View

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How pleasant to cast a few glances
Landscape-ward as it advances
From our deck; the greens or grays
Of trees and sand traps and trim fairways;
Fluffy cloud-puffs and blue sky
Hovering above; nodding flowers
Wearing beaded caps from showers
Within our garden; sprays of ferns;
Families of trees, towering sweetgums
With pesky fruit; a fledgling Red Bud from
Some nursery a daughter patronizes,
And various plants she prizes,
Decorative touches edging a great resource:
A living, breathing golf course!

To sample the awesome stage, many a day
I'll dine on our deck or saunter and survey
At the back of our yellow home,
Or pause from chores to comb
The lawn for missiles misfired from a tee
Not far away, just past a few trees.
Sunning quietly, I'll break off from a book
For a pause, a relaxed look,
To peer at the sheer drama
Of players streaming in panorama.

In the variegated color and sensation
There's hardly an aberration
Except an oddball swish and crack
Of golf balls against the back
Of swaying branches, bark or leaves
Leaving a golfer for the moment bereaved.
Or following a poorly-executed flub
The loud hammer of a club
Against the innocent turf, plus a curse
And the out-of-bounds launch of a search.