Magic Seconds
The pitcher toes the rubber, then steps off for a bit,
Wipes his brow, sets his cap, pounds the ball in his mitt
As he peers in for the sign sixty feet six inches away
Where stands the batter, dead set on wrecking his day.
The ump gives a shout: "Let's get on with it; time to play!"
The fans stir restlessly, yearn for action, come what may.
The hurler's into his wind-up, cocks his arm, lets it go,
The pitch is on its way; he's heaved a mighty throw...
The crack of the bat, the flight of the ball,
The timing of the fielder, who leaps over the wall
To snare an out from the jaws of a surefire home run---
Gasps of silence, then applause's tumult rains down.
Baseball's magic is unique, squeezed into seconds of play:
Seconds to shape a long summer, each and every day.
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