Elysian Fields Quarterly - The Baseball Review

BASEBALL POETRY

Riverview Park Baseball Diamond December 25, 1998
By Scott A. Winkler

The crow roams the hole between short and third,
	picks up and puts down his scaly feet
	between snow patches that crust over the dirt skin.
He peers toward the plate
	and squints a black marble-eyed challenge
	to a ghost only he sees–
	a batter who knocks snow from his cleats
	with a phantom white ash club.
"Come on," the crow's voice cracks, "you can't hit one past me."

His weight shifts from foot to foot,
	his wings, feathers spread, skim the ground–
	black on white under winter's blue sky–
	and he crouches,
	waiting for April.
–EFQ

SCOTT A. WINKLER teaches American literature and writing courses at West High School in Green Bay, Wisconsin. He roots for the Milwaukee Brewers.