Freddie left the red and white cannon at speed. He whizzed over the open-mouthed crowd in a graceful crescent arc and was quite frankly bored, bored, bored.
The large frayed net loomed up, saggy
...
[+]
Wetly they plunged into the
Heart of their backyard. The ground
Was brown and green and white, the
Leftover snow clumping into
Dark, icy puddles, or
glistening white mounds. A few
Weeds had returned already,
Peppering the brown with green.
But underneath it all was
Mud; profuse, oozing, suckling
Mud, like a baby at your boots,
Clinging to each step and dropping
Away with a moist pop. The
Earth was rising from winter
With all the grace of a
Pubescent teenager.
They played in the snow for the
Last time, and then went inside,
And thirsted for summer.
Heart of their backyard. The ground
Was brown and green and white, the
Leftover snow clumping into
Dark, icy puddles, or
glistening white mounds. A few
Weeds had returned already,
Peppering the brown with green.
But underneath it all was
Mud; profuse, oozing, suckling
Mud, like a baby at your boots,
Clinging to each step and dropping
Away with a moist pop. The
Earth was rising from winter
With all the grace of a
Pubescent teenager.
They played in the snow for the
Last time, and then went inside,
And thirsted for summer.