Submitted by Larry Lindberg of Vancouver, Wash.
The tee he took with no anticipation
not a hint of what was to come.
The stroke applied with some imperfection
provided a result not to be outdone.
His eye followed the ball in its flight
with the respect it did deserve
and not to be morose or contrite
expecting, of course, the usual swerve.
But as the line of the shot did extend
the possibility entered his brain,
the end to which we all intend
and many daily over-train.
Flying, falling toward our goal
with squinting eyes and body lean,
the flight has ended, now the roll,
our fate decided by the green.
Gravity, slope and grain do labor
having all their effects to ply,
usually not in our favor
or helping to improve our lie.
But sometimes and on this one day
as chance and elements collide
He’d taken his swing and made his play
and done all he could have tried.
Continuing these forces to follow
the ball headed toward the pin,
the hole agape the ball to swallow,
allowed his shot to enter in.
Now cured of luck and at life’s end,
a Golfer, honest to the greatest extent,
even now he’ll not break the trend
and admit that shot was an accident.