Grand Slam


 You can see it in the batter’s eyes

As he makes contact, this time just right

He feels it, the perfect click in his hands

What he always aims at, but rarely achieves

There is no resistance, everything flows

Like there was nothing opposed

This one is gone, he knows


And he lifts his eyes and watches the towering arc

Forgetting to breathe

He trots, careful not to preen

Thinking in one moment of his own strength

And those things he is sure are true

And the time that has been granted to him


copyright 2018

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