Brief light out

"OUT!"

Thumb jerks skyward

as the angel of death

works his ballgame,

an authority rarely wrong.

We gather together

like the song "We gather together

to ask the Lord's blessings"

concerning harvest of crops

yet this is a beloved friend we have gathered for.

(More than a complicated bundle of unplugged DNA.)

And we are a thinning circle and attend more

funerals than weddings

and see more strangers than the

ones we climbed mountains with,

thought we knew them well until

they grew up more into their dresses and breeches, before their metal was adultly wrought and tempered... their fabric woven into the cosmic scene of life's breath.

And we drank wine as comrades and attempted to understand

love once or twice maybe. Yet see... do you see?

The ballgame is far more than birth and death.

Ask the Ump.

Reviews

[Amy Craig Beasley]

laughing here ~ unique observations ~ and in the cosmic order of all things - I wonder who is that UMP ---