The boys went up to youth volleyball night
And seemed to enjoy it,
Though, untrained, their skills were minimal.
I thought about getting a ball for them to bop around,
But ended up springing for net, court, ball.
They played on-and-off all day,
On the slightly sloping land: tree on one side,
Gravel pile on the other, land sloping off into
Stinging nettles, Johnson grass, chicken run,
Muddy ditches. I would go crazy.
But although a boy occasionally ran past my window,
All day long they’d go back out and play
In the wet, tall weeds, smiling away.
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