Delivery

Delivery

The pitcher stands on the slight rise

Of earth, his arms dangling

Contemplating

His craft.

Satisfied, he gathers his arms

In the familiar deceptive fashion

The small white ball emerging from

This chaos

To hang in the space between

Pitcher and batter and catcher.

The outcomes are myriad

And only time will deliver

One of them

And as the moment stays

We wait.

It is all any of us

Can do.

 

Dan Verner

April 18, 2019

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