NO BALLS, STRIKES OR OUTS
By Beatrice Franklin, Juneau
The small boy gets in his pitcher’s stance,
lifts elbow for release. Though there’s no
eager batter in box, no runners on base.
Instead, he faces a seamless sea. Pitch
perfect blue, china smooth. Temptress mirror.
The blond boy in his Cub’s shirt has a single
thought. To ruffle the moment, break water’s
calm. The sea’s switched on the gene which
compels the boy to pick up the rock that feels
good in his palm. Like his father and his father
before him who needed such conversations
with river, lake and ocean. One curious seal
pops up for better look. A passing seagull dips
a wing. A grandmother observes that nature
speaks to boy, though he’s grown up in a place
more peopled and metallic, not in this place of
eagle and evergreen. She silently applauds that
he feels the moment without cheers for a
a good throw or strikeout.
Love it, Beatrice. Thanks for sharing, this baseball junkie can relate to the need for conversation with river, lake and ocean, between the thrower and the thrown, those who love baseball and those who can’t grasp its complexity.