How I Understand People That Love Gardening A mastodon lumbers out from the forest Into a field of grasses ebbing and flowing, Like an emerald ocean. A band of brothers hold spears and slingshots Pressed together as if their lives depended on it, Watch breathless hidden by the waves, Each rehearsing and feeling the motion of their arms and hands. Whoosh – the spears fly Millions of years of patterns of endorphins Flood through the winners of the game Of evolution. Whoosh – the club swings Connected to the hands and arms Hitting a little white ball Exploding the same endorphins Through the latest link in the chain of brothers. I can't get enough Of the woosh.