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November 3
359/365

Arc

Like curve and fast balls
thrown in every weather,
some long and arcing,
some snap into leather,
our lives rise and fall.

Now, more stall than momentum,
I wobble slightly wild, feel
like every ball ever thrown,
the pull of where I’m from,
the call of home.

Arc

Like curve and fast balls
thrown in every weather,
some long and arcing,
some snap into leather,
our lives rise and fall.

Now, more stall than momentum,
I wobble slightly wild, feel
like every ball ever thrown,
the pull of where I’m from,
the call of home.

Michael Schein, 61

Carnation

 
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