Interlocutor

He was antsy, the campus summer-somnolent…
When stepping to the hardcourts,
He found all surprisingly with occupants.
So offroad he drove that setting evening,
Toward a wooden barn imposing…

Horses, players akin, ran to welcome him,
Snorting loudly that Stanford
Was a farm in essence…
And this corner of the perimeter
Deserved more than a chance visit.
One who snout-brushed him,
Was Arabian and particularly demonstrative…

The two kept up a pacy conversation
Until darkness closed in
And to the courts he returned,
Practically glowing!

– Bolbul