Pitcher's Mound

story poem

The detail of the sun

On the molten dirt

Shone shining chocolate

Poetry

Symphony

Dancing in joyful misery.

 

Busy were the birds

Above the pitcher’s mound,

Where he’d send the ball

That afternoon

A comet blinded by

Blinding sun.

 

Meditation before

Baseball—

His last game, and,

Waiting in the stands,

His number one,

Dressing in tomorrow’s white

And awaiting morning’s sun.

 

Last time sold on the

Pitcher’s mound;

Then, he’d replace the old

With the new he has found.

Reviews

[Dressed in Poetry]

I like the story. I wonder what he gave it up for. It reminds me of those commercials where the athletes are like "Most of us end up doing something other than sports."