Whispers on the Golf Course

The sun was up the breeze was light, 
I stood on the box for my driver swing,
I heard the whispers, soft and bright, 
From nature’s choir, in my ears ringing.

‘Did you hear that’ I asked them aflutter,
The threesome gave me looks funny and stinging
One laughed, ‘get going’ he mocked with stutter,
I remained amazed and confused as the voices kept ringing.

In front was the banyan tree the tall and wise, 
It said “You injure my leaves, break my twigs and hurt my trunk badly,
Your swing’s too fast, your aim is wayward, please aim high for the skies!”
I hit the ball it soared over the tree, for once spared its  agony.

“So, your habit to disturb me and rest in my folds will never end,
My colorful flowers wither away when the ball search begins.” The Bougainvillea complained.
Lo and behold, the ball hit the plant when I sliced,
Kept looking for long but never found it in the end.

The fairway was lush with grass  though dry,
I hit the ground behind the ball and heaved a frustrating sigh
The shrubs, they giggled, low and sly, 
“Another miss? Oh, do give it another try!” 

My ball landed in the wet soggy  pond,
“You hit me again without a warning, you did not shout ‘ball,’
I hear you loud and clear cursing yourself to no avail,” said the frog.
The pond and me are bitter friends, I often feel making in it, natures call!

The grass, it murmured beneath my feet, 
“Your ball’s in the rough, admit defeat!” 
The birds, they chirped from branches high, 
“Don’t! Hit hard on the grass don’t let the ball fly!” 

The sand in the bunker, with a gritty grin, 
“Welcome back, friend, do come on in,
If you sink your club in me I will be in pain,
Your ball will remain with me leaving you no gain.”

A dog barked out loud from a nearby cart, 
“Your putt’s too long , you missed a stroke
The green is shaved and it is too fast,
Its tears have dried up the surface is broke.”

I paused, with my brow in a knot, 
Were I going mad, or was this my lot? 
But then I laughed loudly with reverberating sound, 
I knew in this game, joy and fun could be found. 

I looked around with a lighter heart, 
The whispers had left, they were a work of art. 
For on the course, nature thrives and sings, 
Even the trees, plants, shrubs, sand, birds and dogs can tease like kings. 

So let the golfer swing, with laughter around, 
Nature’s chorus, though not heard, is a joyful sound. 
Each shot is a  dance, each hole is a delightful song, 
On this lively course we will always be, It is where all we all belong.