by Stephen Jones
Anticipation’s eyes locked
pitcher-to-batter batter-to-pitcher
catcher & umpire the close-ended
joint of a bright green fan laid down
spread open warning track edged
& in an outfield’s groomed grass
a leather glove thumped waiting
.
Posted 6/29/2009
Posted on 06/29/09
Published in Free Verse, Players, The Game Itself | Link to this poem | No Comments
