Corn Hole Bean Bags

Corn Hole Bean Bags

They sit in your hands, weighing nothing.

But oh, how they lightly flex and slightly droop

Around your fingers 

(unless you get them squarely in your palm, 

your palm contains them wholly)

In containment and wiliness, both,

They offer a lot of delight

To some

Some don’t like the way they slide too far

Or not far enough

Sometimes, they miss the mark completely

And you hear the ‘dag nabits’ and ‘yassses’

Fly simultaneously

Everyone has a side.

I have only ever been happy 

When they reached their intended holes

Otherwise, I have had no purpose for them

They’ve taken up space in the rec bag,

Displaced other, more desirable options

Like, come on, where are the badminton shuttlecocks?

But here we are, it's a new day

A new mood 

Why not get them fun bags out, 

dust those suckers off

Does it matter if they have an intended hole anymore?

Nah.

Let’s just toss, and see where they land.