Time for another poem? Here's one from my persona as soccer mom.
Soccer Afternoon
We walk onto the astroturf under a gray sky.
Another soccer season begins, gnats,
a light rain, children shouting.
If a soccer ball were a crystal ball
there's only one future it could reveal:
this game and next week's and the next,
an endless parade of pony-tails.
More bottles of water. More jerseys.
More white socks. But it's okay,
I'm happy with sameness. What else
would I be doing with the afternoon?
I would have all these girls young forever
prancing across the field, running to shelter
under my umbrella. We were made for this,
to cheer on our children, to applaud when the ball
slips into the net for our team. To shout
encouragement when it doesn't.
Some other poet said it better, but let no god
hear my grousing and think I mean it.
Let me stand here on the sidelines cheering
for as long as my girls need me.
Let them need me a long time.
Soccer Afternoon
We walk onto the astroturf under a gray sky.
Another soccer season begins, gnats,
a light rain, children shouting.
If a soccer ball were a crystal ball
there's only one future it could reveal:
this game and next week's and the next,
an endless parade of pony-tails.
More bottles of water. More jerseys.
More white socks. But it's okay,
I'm happy with sameness. What else
would I be doing with the afternoon?
I would have all these girls young forever
prancing across the field, running to shelter
under my umbrella. We were made for this,
to cheer on our children, to applaud when the ball
slips into the net for our team. To shout
encouragement when it doesn't.
Some other poet said it better, but let no god
hear my grousing and think I mean it.
Let me stand here on the sidelines cheering
for as long as my girls need me.
Let them need me a long time.
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