7 am chrysalis
this morning was cold.
i could almost feel
ice tinkling in the taps.
clouds frozen, the sun
under a blanket.
even the leaves were
hoping for a caterpillar's
warm stomach.
at the badminton court,
the gentry arrived.
quiet but with breath steaming.
all of us in three layers.
some in maybe more.
all stuffed in wool and acrylic.
the chilly air hugging us.
the warm ups began.
small walks, and quick hops.
up, down and around the court,
we tried to wake ourselves up.
sleepy muscles groaning.
middle age tendons stretching.
senior bones protesting.
the cold was merciless.
it gripped us like a vice.
caught in the throes
of desperate lock jaw.
in the distance, a randy
pit bull must have
grinned at my analogy.
he must have pissed
all over himself in delight.
there was no let up.
a frosty wind blew in.
even blood refused
to travel faster.
in the thick air,
the otherwise warring
sounds of our racquets
whimpered.
we were sloths. nope.
even sloths would
have been quicker.
then from the distance,
a young thing
made her perky way.
svelte, made-up,
dressed in thin fabric.
swaying through.
our eyes skewered
through the soggy air
and jostled at the
edges of her curves.
primal the instinct.
back at the court,
all of a sudden,
and in unison, our hearts
started pumping octane.
sinews exploded
with energy and fire.
and we became dragons
and demons.
we were quicksilver.
our feet and ankles
found wheels and grace.
we were shouting
and baying for gore.
we attacked each other,
mercilessly smashing
the plastic shuttle into
furious submission.
in the flurry and fury
that burst on the court,
she lithely sashayed past.
old warriors drenched
in invisible testosterone.
maybe i spotted
a bemused smile
on her full red lips.
or was it a look of
understanding?
i wouldn't know.
the game carried on.
full of rabble and vigor.
no one said a word.
but every one knew.
change was instant.
metamorphosis.
but as old as man.
we had all tumbled
out of home as cold pupas,
but we'd flit back
as hot butterflies.
LOL! a hilarious write...............hmmm the girl suely wamed you all up.
I love this ! Sounds like a good morning at badminton was had by all !..Maggie
ha ha, this is great, made me laugh
Prathap , this is hilarious, nothing like a good laugh at oneself on a chilly morning, to get the blood flowing, though you give credit to the young girl. I once wrote a poem- Games we play, sort of similar in vein.
ha ha!!!! good one james!
Did you get her number?
I agree with Mamta Pat..nothing like a good laugh on a chilly Delhi morning!!