Surviving

Feeling the warmth of the sun on a cloudy day. A glimpse into a blind billy goat's unique, ever changing perspectives.

2016 04 05 Poetry: Play Ball! April 5, 2016

Hello April the fifth, and I hate to say it, but here comes winter, or maybe not? I hope not, as I was getting used to the warmer temps, but then again, this is Maine we’re talking about. If you don’t like the weather, wait a minute.

The start of April means the start of baseball season, and for me, coupled with the start of spring, there’s not much that tops this time of year, unless you want to talk about being a kid on the last day of school.

Ok, then, and here we go.

I loved to play baseball when I was a kid. There wasn’t many times in the summer when you could find me without my glove, and throwing a baseball was something I loved to do.

My poem for today is a commemorative piece about that good old American past time, baseball. For me, it’s a great time when the smells and the sounds are only outdone by the feelings of being a part of an amazing event known as, you guessed it, baseball.

Hooray for the boys of summer, and the Fall Classic.

Thanks for stopping by again, and I do hope this finds you in the midst of a great day.

Now then, let’s Play Ball!

***

Play Ball!
A Poem by DP Lyons

A nip in the early evening air bites down hard
The steel cleats line the top steps of both dugouts
The pitcher wipes his brow onto his uniform sleeve and stares in at his catcher
The radio announcer grabs his microphone and slowly rises to his feet

The popcorn vendor stands still on the stairs of lower section G
The low rumble of a jet plane echoes through the ball park
Standing in his seat, a young boy clutches at his father’s arm
The breeze blowing in from right field slowly subsides

The batter taps the dirt from his cleats and slowly steps up to the plate
The umpire lowers his raised fist and points out towards the pitcher
The first base coach methodically runs through the signs
Runners on second and third look left, then right, then slowly take their lead

The pitcher takes a deep breath and shakes off a sign
The catcher adjusts his mask as he looks towards the dugout
He taps his left inside thigh twice and flutters four fingers down towards the dirt
The pitcher nods his head yes and comes to a set

The capacity crowd collectively comes to a hush
The young boy nervously leans in towards his father
The radio announcer swallows hard as he hugs the microphone
The pitcher sets in motion and delivers the pitch

The ball speeds straight at the batter, then quickly drops down over the plate
The batter steps back and looks at the umpire
The catcher holds his breath as he waits for the call
The umpire’s booming voice hollers out, “Strike Three!”

The boy screams out as his father hugs and raises him high into the evening air
The announcer rises up onto his toes as he yells into the microphone
The popcorn vendor raises both arms and screams out at the top of his lungs
The catcher runs out and pounds the game winning baseball into his pitcher’s glove

The 2016 Major League Baseball Season is underway

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2 Responses to “2016 04 05 Poetry: Play Ball!”

  1. Bill would have loved this, especially if the Colorado Rockies were the winning team. Nice poem, Deon.


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