The start and end of a batter’s moment,
Janus of the diamond.
The place where hitters say their prayers to
The Gods of Baseball, those who knew in the past
What it meant to start their loving journey —
A rectangle and triangle pointing to the field,
Dissecting it in half, preparing it for an invasion
That may or may not see defensive success.
Home plate is home to starters and to finishers,
And should be worshiped for what it represents:
First step, first breath, first sight, first flight,
Initial phase, start of a maze, hello and goodbye . . .
It is what it is, the start or the end of a rally,
A welcome sign, a farewell sign
And for those fortunate enough to make contact
It is the beginning of the inning’s score,

And ironically it is also journey’s end, a place
To score, to hit the floor and pick up dirt,
To kick the catcher’s mitt and upon occasion
To start and to conclude a circle of the bases
On the basis of a clout going out into
The hands in the stands in fair territory,
A moment of glory for a base that is the basis
Of the home run trot, the absurd but worthy
Hand and heart dance routines waiting
For the batter to engage in with his coaches and his mates,
As emphatically across home plate,
Journey done, he glides (or slides
If his score results from a base hit).
Welcome home! Your journey’s done.
Home plate is a home to approach as
Batter first, then runner, but either way
It has a way of welcoming success.