Tee Off Times

Golf is a good walk spoiled.

Winston Churchill


It was such an electric morning
that it had must have risen
before first light,
took a solitary swim in a chilled pool,
then showered and dressed in the scent of pines,
and was now feeling exhilarated.

It was a triple distilled
icy plunge of a morning.
Pure and purifying.
A fragile crust of frost
brittled each blade and spear of grass.

The pale blue sky soared
and rolled overhead
with the arctic freshness
of lime citrus vodka
tumbling over ice in a glass.

We sensed each bird and insect –
all of evolution maybe –
was afraid to exhale for fear of disturbing
the still vibration of the air.
A rare vintage only we could taste.

But we did not take for granted
the innumerable elements that had convened
and cooperated in that place
with such synchronicity
to create such a day.

We knew we were merely two grains of salt
spinning in the perfectly balanced flavours
in this dish.
He and I were but two teeth
in a collection of cogs and gears
turning together,
with immaculate timing, balance, precision