Bowls on A Summer's Afternoon

Tranquility is something so rarely seen.
White flannels reflect the sun.
Look here it is on the bowling green.
The white jack comes to rest. Its made its run.

Placing a mat the end begins in earnest.
One black ball wobbles along.
Bouncing and curving it comes to rest.
A gentle lob, firmly but not too strong.

Close, further and closer to the white jack.
Black bowls around the jack are set.
One maverick bowl comes in and "WHACK".
All the players, just like Drake do not fret.

All bowls played, the maverick wins the end.
Happy jokes, smiles and chatter.
Bowls are collected by a player, a friend.
Its only a game. Its people that matter.