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Poem

Diving for the ball,
Balling into a dust-
Orange roll,
The catcher tossed it back to the pitcher
After a ball three, and walked up to him.
The descent of the night's sky 
Made the ballfield lights a sudden relevance.
The catcher's cleats hit the ascending tip
of the diamond. He threw back his mask:

"You got this."
"I know I got this."
"Just throw how you normally throw."
"I know. I will. I know."
"You know what to do. Let's do this."
"I got this. I got this."
Then something was said 
From the catcher to the pitcher
Not even the poet's ears were privy to.

Anyway,
Catcher ran back
Behind the diamond 
And squatted, throwing out 
His target glove with a deft pause
So not to tip the batter off.

The next pitch was a swinging strike
High up in the zone.
The pitch after that was a home run
Caught by a nun
Out on Yawkey Way.

Oh well, there's always the next day.

By the way,
She blessed the ball
And gave it away.

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