The Golf Course

Jun 12, 2013

Jacaranda-Trees-at-Pukalani-Golf-Course-1To Michael, for beginning it all, for unanticipated salvation


Until I met you, the calla lilies
in a vase of grass by an arthritic stone wall
were nothing more
than something beautiful.

So the dog shadowing within
a broken hinged gate, open,
as, over there, two pigeons
tromped at the mud
before hurtling into the face
of the jasmine-sated breeze…
All—even the bouquet of coca cola droplets
thinning in the white strip of sun
atop the cobalt blue table
beneath our elbows rusting—
until I met you,
were little more than happy tokens,
fireflies in a jar.
Reverenced, yes, as the lid tightened
but too soon jostled further back
on the countertop amidst yesterday’s paper
and a gummy rimmed bottle of dish detergent
because the coffee needed making.

“Why not write a poem about those trees?”
you suggested, pointing up, up,
up until the clouds began to topple
on my toes and the sky turned green.

Who knew the golf course was the Garden?
Who knew, Michael,
but you,

and, now, I
as I dare
to answer a chance challenge—
by taking a deep breath,
writing the first word,
and looking, always looking.


Copyright © 2013 Jenine Baines

To find more of Jenine’s poems, writings, and musings, please visit

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Summer Breeze by Susan Miller (



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