Today’s Poem
Decorating a Cake While Listening to Tennis --Peg Duthie
The commentator's rabbiting on and on about how it's so easy for Roger, resentment thick as butter still in a box. Yet word from those who've done their homework is how the man loves to train—how much he relishes putting in the hours just as magicians shuffle card after card, countless to mere humans but carefully all accounted for. At hearing "luck" again, I stop until my hands relax their clutch on the cone from which a dozen more peonies are to materialize. I make it look easy to grow a garden on top of a sheet of fondant, and that's how it should appear: as natural and as meant-to-be as the spin of a ball from the sweetest spot of a racquet whisked through the air like a wand.

















