Keep Away

He takes his position,
stance ready for the next play.
Rather than catch and release,
he prefers the game
of keep away.
His carob eyes fixate
on my hands,
as I attempt to grab
the ball from his drippy jowls.
I try the old trick—
fake left, then right—
but his reflexes are too quick
for my slowed-with-age reactions.

He nearly bounces in glee,
races his familiar backyard course.
Flicks the ball
above his head,
like a little boy practicing
with a too large mitt.
Tempts me to intercept
the slobber-slick ball
before he snatches it again.

Once we’ve worn ourselves out.
we sit side-by-side
on the back porch swing,
panting and smiling in sync.

Christy Schwan is a native Hoosier farm kid, rock hound, wild berry picker, wildflower seeker, astronomy studier, and quiet sports lover of kayaking, canoeing, snowshoeing and loon spotting. Her preferred writing studio is a treehouse-level screened porch sheltered from mosquito swarms in northern Wisconsin.