Poem -

Cold October

Breath out! Each step crunches the cold grass under my cleats. 

My sticky tar pine tool sways in my arm like a lumber man and his axe. 

Breath out!  Remember to breath. 

Look up at the hopefull faces and the crunch at my feet turns to soft brown dirt. 

The next breath comes natural, no need to think. I put my right foot in to the box, digging and twisting my toes in the dirt like squashing a unwanted bug. 

Quick glance towards the man on the hill and as I place my other foot in to the box, I claim the plate. Stretch my bat out straight to show my reach. I feel it this time. This moment is mine. Lifting the bat behind my shoulder is the invitation to test me. Swaying my arms and and pulling the bat up and down behind my helmet waiting to take that strike. As the ball releases. 

Breath in, target,and Release everything.

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