Thursday, September 22, 2011

Baseball Haiku

Opening Day
First pitch slow and wild
From celebrity

Opening Day
Flag tells nothing
of what’s to come.

Opening day
suspected 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

Leaving early to beat traffic
Tea gulped
without ceremony.

Rally squandered
Over-watered grass
In mid-day sun

Picked off first
Naked and erased
Pale moon

Coach flashes signs.
Batter distracted
by butterflies.

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 a double
Summer’s tenancy

Butterflies in his stomach
the knuckleballer
serves them to the plate.

Unshaven rookie pitcher
throws his menace
at patient veteran

Squeeze play.
Forty thousand eyes
crowd home plate.

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

Ground crew
waters the infield.
Grass leans in thirst.

Conference on the mound
Gnats regroup
on raked hill

Cicadas drone requiem
for double-header
no longer played

Into a forest
Of green blades
A baseball rolls

Batter steps
out of the box –
crickets hesitate.

Early innings at night
Sun yields
To thousand bulbs

Mathematically eliminated
even as
moon rises.

The mirrored moon
in the tarp declares
game called

Somersault catch
Ants repair damage
while crowds cheer.

moon hurries
across the innings
one two three

pitcher fingers four seamer
as batter crosses

Hot dispute
in the umpire’s face
who bit the moon

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