Par 52 mins 180 2 mins 180
As I direct my eyes towards my set
I see various possibilities-
Each capable of different results,
I choose the one which I desire.
Picking the Callaway driver, I take
My stance and stare down at the ball.
The small white rounded figure
Capable of great lengths,
With just the right touch.
As I start swinging my club back,
I wonder if I made the right choice.
Would the 3-wood have been better?
I look below at the ball and smile-
I’m sure I had my reasons for making my choice
And I should stand by it.
I complete my swing and gaze happily,
The ball soaring high above all.
As I look around and observe the other players, I see
People frustrated, trying to make their choice work,
Some tired, giving up and moving on.
I think of the beauty of the game and how
Players get good reliefs on their worst days
And bad breaks on their better ones.
The hard part, I feel, is picking yourself up, realizing
That you have to move from where you land.
One can either aim to get back on the green and,
Move past - Or regret being in the rough and
Continue to stay there forever.
As I reach my ball, I face the same choices I always have,
Putting me in a fix to choose the right one.
I look on towards the green, the promising land,
With the flagstaff in the middle at 290 yards,
I take account of all possible hurdles,
The vast water in the middle,
The daunting white body of sand sprawled,
And the thorny cactus in my path,
Putting my faith behind my four iron, and realizing
Trying is all that I can do, I swing.