Fraternity now, and football

At the end of the rut,
the bucks grow weary,
great heads bowed beneath
battle-worn racks,

here and there a desultory
joust, a soft grunt cast
in diminishing wind toward
indifferent does.

What was it all about?

Majesty tattered, they plod and limp,
half-dazed as if emerging
from a potent spell, speak

to former rivals with
the brevity of men:
Sorry, dude.

Fraternity now,
and football, while
the does cool and cloister,

cue up
a chick flick —
Terms of Endeerment —

dreaming fawns 
as winter advances,
the long white calm
blanketing their broken fever.





  1. Love that line, “Sorry dude.”! And the cycle goes on. 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Yes, and with such short-lived drama, compared to human couplings! 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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