‘Stopping by Courts on a Sunny Morning’ by Reid McGrath The Society September 25, 2013 Humor, Poetry 1 Comment One night-crawler out on this sparkling court, Dried-up and shriveled, overdone, not red, Neglected to take heed, or to report ‘T was all mirage; to turn around instead. Followers, these, in the benighted hours, Had wriggled out to nab a bit of wet; Who in the sun wilt faster than flowers. This holocaust is something to regret. If one was living: I was curious. I paced the court off with an eagle eye. The cocky sun was sure, was luminous. But near the fringe hap’ly did I espy One writhe (or throe); his pain would I allay. I threw him in the woods and went away. Reid McGrath is a poet living in the Hudson Valley. Featured Image: “The Tennis Match” by Horace Henry Cauty. Views expressed by individual poets and writers on this website and by commenters do not represent the views of the entire Society. The comments section on regular posts is meant to be a place for civil and fruitful discussion. Pseudonyms are discouraged. The individual poet or writer featured in a post has the ability to remove any or all comments by emailing submissions@ classicalpoets.org with the details and under the subject title “Remove Comment.” Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Related One Response E. Slew Bericuda December 18, 2013 Reflections on a Wet November Afternoon for Reid McGrath Scads of night-crawlers on the oval track were dried-up, shriveled, overdone and dead. The headless worms were heedless of the flak of solar rays, and left a mess instead. I saw one hundred of them at a glance; and as I walked I had to watch my step. It wasn’t pleasant, and I didn’t dance; that brief sojourn is something I regret. But there were live earthworms as well—a bunch. I had to watch where they were squirming, lest I squish them with an unintended crunch and get their gooey insides on my soles. What was the reason they were in my path? Worms don’t destroy themselves, do they McGrath? Perhaps the chemically treated grass had made them flee their former homes en masse. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel Reply Your email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.