Over The Line

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Left field’s a hay bale, right field’s a stump
don’t need no bases, don’t need an ump
pop ups and grounders from the top to the bottom
first pitch in Springtime to last swing in Autumn
loaded up, down three, two outs, ninth inning,
sometimes the ending’s just the beginning,
when everything stops, and the pitch just stands still
hanging in mid air: ill fate or good will?
and a long double-header is a sweet double-feature,
we all should have faith like that boy in the bleachers
rally-cap-head-down, eyes closed in prayer
line drive, bloop single, just keep the ball fair,
and maybe you can’t recognize outside sliders,
or singles that float over shortstop like gliders
and maybe you think a lead’s too big to blow
like no more tomorrow, and no place to go
and friends start to question just why grown men play games
well past their childhood, well past their fame,
and four simple corners all lead back to home
where stealing’s a good thing, a diamond shaped poem.
And all of your best days look just like mine
we’re over the hill, and stuck on the pine
But when we get started, we might get in nine
Under the wire and over the line.
Over the line, no more excuses
Dreams need a backyard, trains need cabooses
wars need battles and battles need truces
wine needs the grape and the grape needs the vine
and everybody’s playing it over the line.