poetry friday

With the baseball play-offs underway, and the Minnesota Twins making us all nervous (as usual, I might add), today’s poem just has to be a baseball poem. 

Play at the Plate

 

 by Paul B. Janeczko
from the book   That Sweet Diamond:  Baseball Poems, by Paul B. Janeczko, illustrated by Carole Katchen

 

Some
watch the ball
short hop the wall and
the right fielder — who
can’t pick it up fast enough —
finally snatch it
sling it
to the impatient cut-off man,
who throws home
almost before he turns.

Some
watch the runner
barely
toe the inside corner of third,
eyes on
the coach’s windmill arm
signaling haste.

All
watch the meeting place:
the catcher begging for the ball
so he can sweep the tag
at the runner beginning
his slide
before the umpire,
holding his mask
behind his back
as casually as a satin heart
of valentine candy,
signals the meeting over,
the runner safe.