The Pitcher Poem by michael brown

At night under artificial light
A man walks slowly from the right
he comes toward a hill of clay
where workers have raked during the day
damp sweat runs down on his face
he his halfway there he slows his pace

On the hill he reaches down
a bag of Resin he grabs from the ground
he turns to face the other man
there are screams and cheers from the fans

Now he stands and toes the rubber
eye's so intense one might shudder
one then two then one again
he checks the sign and begins

One foot goes back the wind up starts
the batter is poised he's ready for his part
now the turn, the balaced point
all eye's on you, you can't go back

Stretching toward the plate with all you've got
the ball flies from your hand, this is your shot
through the air the ball flies
size of watermelons that's in the batter's eye's

The batter swings with all his might
camera's click and flashes fill the night
Thump! the ball is in the catcher's mitt
The batter swings and misses and is now in a fit
Take a seat, the batter feels low
next batter is up one more out to go

6/7/06