To teach is not to write.
To orchestrate is not to play.
I serve as the third base coach,
waving the true poets towards stardom,
those who have swung and hit
their poems out of the park.
The true pitchers hurl their poems
with marvelous skill and variety.
The true outfielders catch the meaning
of poems landing in their laps.
I serve as the third base coach,
watching the young rookies
come up to the Poetic Major League,
and know by halting step,
the game has passed me by.
Oh, I can still bat out a metaphor,
and rip a wicked line up through the middle,
but realize the tarp has been pulled over me.
Perhaps, it’s just a rain delay,
but more probably, the time to walk on home.