Poems don’t need to be long to be moving. In fact, often the brevity of a poem is what gives it impact. But good short poems are not like short putts; they are not that easy to make.
Last week The Masters officially ushered in spring for those of us who live where the seasons still exist. The pictures of Augusta National on television almost called for a poem. Four lines by Joyce Kilmer, with one obvious change, might fill the bill. (Kilmer is most famous for his poem “Trees.”)
The air is like a butterfly
With frail blue wings.
The happy [golf course] looks at the sky
Spring is also the time when golfers decide whether or not to take up the challenge of playing the game again. Memories of what was said at the end of the last golf season were on H. W. Boynton’s mind when he wrote in 1901 these memorable lines,
INDEED, indeed, Repentance oft before
I swore─but it was Winter when I swore,
And then and then came Spring, and Club-in-hand
I hasten’d forth for one Round─one Round more.
And so another golf season starts…at least for most of us. And one round more is just the beginning.