The Catcher
Toiling in the dirt,
looking down as if the ground had all the answers.
Waiting for the wind-up,
Delivery is birthed like each throw is its own child coming into the world.
The lonely moment fleeting as the swish of the ball is cutting the air
punctuated by the Snap of the mitt.
Framing the pitch,
"Ball 1!" Umpire screams
Still framing the ball...
a sure sign of non-agreement
Defense of your pitcher.
Soft tossed back to the mound,
flashing a sign,
reading the game,
The base-runners,
The batter steps in
Talking to yourself the body shows the conversations highlight.
"Come down main street", the catcher sits up in her stance.
"No crazy dives into the dirt, runner on second" ...the mitt is open like a hippos mouth in water to show the target.
The Pitch,
The Mitt Snap
Soft toss back
Squatting behind the plate,
toiling in the dirt,
head down,
flash a sign,
read the game,
the situation
2 out, man on 2nd, 3-3 count
"Lets do it again"
The catcher kneels,
waiting for the strike!
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