Tennis Court

 

Our tennis court,

where Grace Kelly played two summers,

with shadows moving and breathing on the green concrete,

the way it does only when the sun hits in just the right way,

was maybe at it’s best the day dad turned 40.

it was all gingham tablecloths and flip flops and

SURPRISE

and mom laughing

and Chopper eating a whole tray of hot dogs.

Me and Maggie clink our cold fruit punch

maraschino cherries and little paper umbrellas.

That was before the big oak tree fell,

and took the chain link down with it

among other things.