Hole in One

I watch my ball take off,
flying erratically, a bit to the
left and then it drops without
rolling, and I wonder how
to alter my swing, to push
beyond my limits. I conjure
the perfect swing, the long
meandering roll avoiding
rocks, dips, and long grass
until it rises to meet the green
and continues to the flag
assured of finding its place
Then with a flourish it drops