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.