The 'Poem A Day' Project ~ Day 204 Poem by Flying Lemming

I stand surveying the angles
And slopes of the land
A plan in my mind and a golf club in my hand

The ball is waiting ready
To live its final putt
This shot is gonna happen, I feel it in my gut

I check the wind direction
And condition of the green
I weigh up all the angles, want the shot to be clean

I plant my feet real sturdy
And eye the balls route
I slow my breathing down as I prepare to shoot

I swing the club back slowly
Now going for the kill
But slip and clip the edge of the plastic windmill