Baseball is something
like love. There's an elegance
about it - a fine tension.
Fielders pluck comets
from thin and glorious air.
Pitchers make solid spheres
disappear. And batters smash meteors
with matchsticks.
But fielders also topple
over fences, sprawl empty-handed
in the dust. Pitchers throw wild.
And batters sometimes tilt
at windmills.
Yet they lean in - watch - wait.
They risk looking foolish
in order to be brilliant.
Line Drives
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