is it baseball?

is it baseball?
the game in the mirror,
charged with the fear or the awe?

dare we do the inevitable,
with chance at our side,
in one single moment?

what is manifested
in this, the season after the win?
what reaches the stands?
what handles the spin?

what happens in this, our day,
these times?
what qualities manage to reign sublime
in the hocus focus of the relevant?

it is baseball,
and they sailed through the season,
saying ‘bring on the bronx’.
this is baseball.


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