They shake hands,
a symbol of good sportsmanship,
a sound of thunder heard in the sky.
He serves;
she hits- forehand.

Thwack.

Backhand,
The rain pours down like a lockerroom shower.

It's out of bounds.
Her serve.
Soon the ball is in play once again,

A ballet,
of swinging rackets.
He jumps, he swings
The water wips about,
it's own interpretive dance.
It twirls and she bends,
she misses and the water swings,
and sways.

The stage is lit.
A crack of thunder and rush of lighting,
illuminates the court.

The ball flies,
once to her,
back to him,
out of bounds,
the game is over.

The stage grows dark,
the performace is over.
They smile at each other,
a job well done.