HOME RUN

Teetering between triumph and disaster

the pitcher, in brief supplication,

swings up his arms

then propels, with hope and hate,

his challenge to the crouching batsman.

As, with unseeable speed, a cobra

strikes its fangs into helpless prey,

the batter's arms uncoil and

the bat, in arching descent,

flashes across the plate,

arrests in mid-flight the twirling orb

and stuns it with venomous fury.

Then, like a fatally stung rabbit,

the ball streaks away in blurred flight

until it loses breath

and drops among the multitude of cupped hands

which, like the mouths of imploring eaglets,

open to be fed.

Its charge spent, the bat is tossed away

and skims across the grass

as the batter, fist raised and

with an exultant grin,

moves at the pace of suppressed joy

around the bases

and trots haughtily home.

SUDDEN SQUALL AT CHURCH AND CHAMBERS STREET



The wind-whipped rain is
no respecter of
freshly dry-cleaned suits
nor buttons loosely sewn

Gusting across the square it
spirals yesterday’s news to
unaccustomed heights,
overmatches the frenzied swipes of
windshield wipers turned on high

Tossing the trash that
overflows the bins, it
floods the sucking sewers
‘til they gurgle in defeat

It parts a hat from head and
sails it down the dirty,
draining streams running beside the
curb. It strips the last remains
of dignity from the red-faced,
fat-rolled pursuer running with
umbrella turned slightly inside out.