Game Point on 25th and 8th

The tournament is taking place on a clear, lined court.

It`s the championship point, Serene has the chance to win;

Game, set, match. All of her concentration is now given;

To this field, this art, to her craft, and her sport.

Her quiet mind is keen, not limited by any imposed parameter.

Above, the sapphire firmament swims, and refulgent rays shine.

She recalls every ace, and each time she heard “fault”;

Moments of utter perfection, and feet intruding on the baseline.

 Still, she returns rapidly from recollections of her vault;

Dwelling on past triumphs or troubles, are actions of an amateur.  

Abruptly, her opponent serves a bullet from the barrel of a gun;

From the primed place, pace starts to race, breaking into a full run.

Circulating decisions, barrages, volleys, and bounces off the turf.

Full swing, both are given, mere seconds to defend or attack;

One swiftly sends, while another directs the sent sphere back.

From north to south, left to right, the directions – the orb will surf.

Meanwhile, the audience`s eyes are passing, watching, observing in silence;

Or are they cheering, are they jeering, currently she can`t tell.

Serene is entranced, hypnotized, by the round pendulum`s spell.

She remains composed; her attention is demanded, and non-compliance

Bares (if she dares tolerate lethargy) a devastating cost –

So, her heart (a stone effigy) supplies sanguine frost.

Her rival delivers a hostile shot, but the antagonism breeds – a relinquished position.

Anticipation: causes time to slow to a stall, as her eyes follow the ball;

Adrenaline: the sight narrows into a tunnel, her vision is liquid into a funnel.

The azure sky, people nearby, stadium`s nature; all vie – all, her senses deny…

…Her only ruminations, meditations are on the trajectory of the arc;

The mind`s silent contemplation, of the projected path in the dark.

A Shepard-Risset tone – with adroit, adept accuracy, she prepares her backhand;

Her sweat drips, grip grips, racquet is connected – and executes her command…

…Time resumes (as if it never ended or paused) with an applause, as she decimates the opposition.

Composed: A.D.