Thursday, September 22, 2011

Baseball Haiku

Opening Day first pitch 
slow and wild 
from celebrity's vain hand.

Opening Day Flag 
tells nothing of what’s to come
missed bunt   spring's first lurch

Swung on and missed 
Amazonian butterfly 
adjusts to the whiff. 

Brush back fast ball 
lost in straw hats and shirts 
nineteen twenty four again. 
Leaving early beats traffic.
Tea gulped 
without even ceremony. 

Over-watered grass in mid-day sun 
picked off first 
naked and erased.

Coach flashes signs. 
Batter distracted by butterflies. 
Rally squandered.

Inside the park home-run. 
Rounding third 
he knew enough to retire. 

Methodically the batter 
knocks dirt that isn’t there 
from his cleats 

Out stretching double. 
Summer’s tenancy expired. 
Inning over.

Butterflies in his stomach 
knuckleball pitcher 
serves them to the plate.

Unshaven rookie pitcher 
throws his menace 
at patient veteran.

Squeeze play. 
Forty thousand eyes crowd home plate.
Ump, like God, decides his fate 

On pitcher’s brow 
beads of perspiration 
he throws to sweating hitter. 

Ground crew waters the infield. 
Grass leans in thirst
bracing for sliding cleats. 

Conference on the mound 
Pitcher with head down.
Gnats regroup on raked hill 

Cicadas drone requiem 
for the double-header 
no longer played. 

Into a forest Of green blades
a  baseball rolls
stitch over red stich. 

Batter steps out of the box,
crickets hesitate. 
No clock presiding.

Early innings on an August night.
Sun yields 
to a thousand light bulbs. 

The mirrored moon in the tarp
declares game called.
The gulls will drink to that.

 Somersault catch in the outfield..
 Ants repair damage 
with crowds cheering.

moon hurries across innings 
Hot dispute in umps' face
who bit the moon.

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