Poet or Pickleballer - Jan. 29, 2025

looks like I can’t be both

can’t hit a ball at or by you

and throw lyrics on a

piece of paper for you

winning and losing clog my head

poetry opens portals of possibility

one lives on the brink of life and death

the other feels like giving birth

I remove the clothes of competition  

shower off the sweat of battle

then take a nap to dismiss

the warrior in my being

before I can sit and ponder

my open hands   what they can

create   who they can touch

instead of beating myself up

for the kills and winners

they could have produced

I want to have gentle eyes

a heart that does more

than just beat

I wouldn’t mind being that

hidden bird singing a song

that makes you stop and listen