A Series of Squares

~ Raymond Foss

The work, the lawn
carved up into a series of squares
crisp edges, overlapping rows
breaking all up
a section at a time.

Like parts of a maze,
a prayer labyrinth
in the segments, the squares
the rectangles and the edges,
all woven, walked

A series of squares,
around the trees, the pines
at the edge of the hill,
between the beds
the soccer field

A pattern of pieces
together a whole
watching the skies
for the clouds above
rounding each corner
to finish the whole

***

It was the first full day of soccer  matches yesterday.  From 9.00 pm to 3.00 pm in three different venues. That's an entire school day spent on the road.  Admittedly, thanks to being a two-car family, I managed to squeeze a grocery shop and few loads of washing back home into the schedule - blissfully aware, I might add, that this was a privileged option.

I still find it unusual to see girls play soccer, especially novice seven-year-olds with legs like fawns and sweet ponytails swinging as they chase the ball.  It's a great atmosphere pitch-side with attentive parents shouting encouragement.   However, I still jump when a mother bellows from the top of her lungs when standing right next to me ... some can even manage it mid-conversation.  It's all a bit rowdy; just not cricket, when a gentle clap is acceptable.  I doubt I'll get used to this.