Flat Green Bowl

They were 32 old persons playing on this green square field. All dressed in white clothes, assorted to their hair. The trees were like a deep green scenery to this luminous shadow play, and the rose bushes were the curtain of the stage. On the field, the dark woods were lazily chasing each other on the short lawn, drawing their large curves and rolling for the jack.
When the rain dropped its first tears, the players hesitated, went for a shelter, then faced the fact. It was there, thin and persistent, bent in apology, as none can do but the English rain. With their raincloaks on, as white as the rest of their clothes, they kept on playing. They had to sweep the woods, gone slippery from the wetness.
Finally the end was close. The 21 games were done. The field drew empty, while the living room drew full for a last cup of tea and a cheese sandwich. And it was time to say good bye, and to wish to the opposing club to meet again on the next season. If fate allows it.