hawkers and hackers

hackers curse the 1st tee shot,
hawkers find it fun,
arrant balls the lucky prize,
hunted one by one

hawkers know the best of holes
have fairways daunting tight,
dog leg left, a crossing wind
with woods off to the right

with big ass drivers the size of toasters,
it's hackers to the tee,
a slicing blow against the flow,
out of bounds now hitting 3

count the stroke and rip again?
or maybe take a mulligan, exposed for all to see,
no time to waste we must keep pace,
in the carts, down the path, away from pesky trees

those wayward shots are so soon forgot,
orphaned in the leaves
that's OK the hackers say,
I still have several sleeves

to and fro to the 19th hole,
hawkers watch where hackers go
to claim forsaken treasure,
hackers boast a few good shots
while hawkers dib the not so hot,
yet all who played found pleasure...

S.A. Peck