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.