Rocket in the Clover

Midday sun was calling my name, so I slipped past the lobby door straight onto the courtyard lawn. Half-buried in a thick patch of clover sat a bright white badminton shuttlecock, its flared plastic skirt pointing straight up like a mini rocket on a launchpad. Looked like an open challenge! I wedged my red sneaker right under the heavy cork nose and kicked with everything I had. It shot skyward, flipped nose-down mid-arc like an aerodynamic dart, and plunged fast. I revved my legs, dropped into a slide across the clover, and caught the nylon skirt inches from the ground. Perfect intercept!