I watch the golfer

lean over and putt.

The ball rolls smoothly

four feet along the

meticulously cut green

and drops in the center

of the hole while looking

like only a journey of

three inches on T.V.

There is an azure blue

lake just off the green

but I can’t see how large

it is in comparison to

the course. I don’t hear

the golfer’s footsteps

as he nods to the small

crowd and moves off

the green onto the

lush fairway on his

way to the next tee. Of

course, I wouldn’t hear

his footsteps even if

the sound were on, but

it isn’t. A handsome guy

with big, wavy hair hawks

a particular golf club and

then the camera does a

close-up of a hiker way up

on a barren mountain side

just off the course. The

hiker appears to be look-

ing at the water not the

golfers. I wonder if it looks

azure blue to him as he

looks down on it with

his bare eye or if that is

the color made by my

LED flat screen T.V. The

view zooms back from the

hiker. In the silence, I wonder

if he is thirsty from his hike.

An arm pumps; fans cheer

loudly without sound. A long,

curvy putt had just dropped

in for an eagle or birdie. In the

silence, I hope the hiker has

a water bottle.