here is a poem about spring; there is no image; I’m trying understand what I may post by way of text and-or image, given parameters; the poem is intentional, not a template


spring for sports

spring for sports
and spring for sports
and why not
we’ve been breathing indoor
court air
exclusively
too
long

time for a whistle heard across the field
the look of grass real
unreal
(somehow spring dirt makes
a difference)
to feel it
literally at last
underfoot
(maybe
a hobbit’s name)

t-shirts and fresh air
	the shirts don’t have to be
	so fresh
we could play well
we could play
fair
we could play free of interference
save our own

c l couch