:: catch it! - a poem on softball (with m de graeve) ::

Standing in the midfield
Glove in hand, sweating hot
My feet ache, waiting
Waiting for the ball

I hear a crack!
A white ball slices
Through the air, falling
It's up to me, I have to catch it

I run backwards and fall from anxiety
I see the ball falling in front of my face.
As if by instinct,
I pull the glove above my face.

I hear a flop -
It's in my glove.
He is out,
The game is ours.

Copyright © 1988 Randolph West & Marc de Graeve

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