The Sport We Lost the Ball In (Wood)

Lyrics

[Intro]
The mallet handle was smooth.
Polished boxwood.
Three feet long, just like the book said.
Walter Jones Whitmore, 1866.
It felt warm from the sun.

[Verse 1]
The lawn was a green square.
The iron hoops, like little doorways.
My ball was the red one.
Pemba's was blue.
He said, "aim for the center peg."
I made a good sound.
A clean thwack.
The red ball rolled through the first door.
And the second.

[Chorus]
And then I hit it too hard.
Just a little too hard.
A perfect line, straight for the lavender bush.
It jumped the border.
It was gone.
Lost in the wood.
That's what I call it. The wood.

[Verse 2]
The grass ends at a line.
Then it's all nettles and damp earth.
Cool shade under the fuchsia.
I pushed the leaves with my foot.
No red glint.
Just the smell of crushed green things.
The game stopped.
The blue ball waited by the peg.

[Chorus]
I hit it too hard.
Just a little too hard.
A perfect line, straight for the lavender.
It jumped the border.
It was gone.
Lost in the wood.
That's what I call it. The wood.

[Bridge]
Pemba walked over from the chapel yard.
He didn't look down.
He looked up, at the way the light fell.
He pointed.
"There," he said. "It is listening."
Tucked beside a fern.
A spot of bright red in the deep green.
He saw it right away.

[Outro]
He picked it up.
It was still warm.
He handed it to me.
"The wood gives things back," he said.
And we played on.