Tennis

The exercise was always in the chase.
I think the yellow fuzz hid eyes and legs

that helped the balls skip underneath the fence
and skitter down the street. My mother sighed

and listed on her racquet, rarely used
for anything but sending us to fetch

and shook her head and watched us scurry too
where mothers now might fear a car. But there

was nothing there but silent tar and sun
and dogs that were too smart to chase along.