Like a child freeing up
an ecstatic white moth,
loosing it from his hands –
there is a moment
at center-swing
when the bat is solemn
and the ball
streaks off
screaming the hard wood’s praise!
THE POETRY OF THE GAME
THE POETRY OF THE GAME
Like a child freeing up
an ecstatic white moth,
loosing it from his hands –
there is a moment
at center-swing
when the bat is solemn
and the ball
streaks off
screaming the hard wood’s praise!