Maria Sharapova

Cassandra Gardiner: Wimbledon

Cassandra Gardiner returns with this week’s offering. Guest opinion articles do not necessarily reflect the views of the publication. Ed


Thwack, speeding through the air, green and fluffy, thud, 138mph reads a display. 15-Love. Sparkling white, tanned and toned bodies battle out on court, wanting to win and be the champion. Indulging in physical perfection, watching balls fly on a hot summer’s day above the perfect lawn as a dual commences.

Leisurely, savouring the afternoon, warm, golden rays of sunlight reaching the lounge floor cocoon the contents. As the ball passes back and forth a heart-beat rhythm gently lulls. The sun shines and the air is still.

Draped in the arms of a lazy chair, breathing slowing, intentions melting into the softness of feathered cushions. Childhood memories begin to flit.

Soaking in the warmth, lazing in a meadow, sun shining, a brown speck smoothly glides in the blue sky, as the grass bows in the breeze and leaves gently rustle. Scratching in the grass, is it a grass-hopper, beetle or mouse? Wave upon wave of bleached grass sways and spreads under the hand of a cooling current, springing upright as the wind dies.

Heat scented with hidden sweetness draws in, brushing my skin flickering grass tickles and delights. Time is nowhere, floating thoughts evaporating like swallows flying south as the sun sprays the world gold. Deeper into the halo of a scene from a dream, drifting comfortably, peaceful and light.

Applause breaks-out, eye-lids rise, the match ends. Reaching for a drink, checking who has won… a balmy day of tennis.

To read more of Cassandra Gardiner‘s work, visit her blog.

Image: reefoto-com under CC BY 2.0