“How did you hit it over here?”
The Red-winged Blackbird gurgles in my ear,
Commenting on my slicéd drive
Which led to an unfortunate bogey five.
It’s just a remark, he’s seen it all,
The fruitless struggles with the strange white ball
Agreeably watching it all go by,
A darkened speck against the vast blue sky:
The red shoulder patches give his attire flavor,
Since otherwise he’s all in black–like Gary Player.