Bump, Set, Spike

Bump, Set, Spike

Someone volleyed the moon
above a distant net. Intuitively
knees bent, ready, as learned
in gymnasium days.

Rising hands aim at delay
of conscious rays, adding
few minutes to golden
hours. Pause, rewind. Replay

Slow motion approaching of toes
whisking sands to volcanic flash.
Athletic memory melts
horizons behind the eye.

Somebody serves the moon
illumination. I leave
fingertips of playful trees grazing
games that should have been.

Copyright © by Kevan Copeland