These men are common, like us
Felons and poets
In a game that makes them gods all afternoon
If you can find some glory that transforms you, seize it!
If you remain the same thereafter
What does it matter?
All any of us taste is a mere moment, anyway
So if it’s the game that restores you?
Let its poetry become part of you--
The perfection of 90 feet, from here to there
And let the beauty of a baseball curving at the far end of physics
And the slow waiting in between slow your soul down in this, our sanctuary
Good God, I don’t have to play
Just give me warm evenings
Redeemed from the haze of summer’s sad heat
I’ll worship God all night
Starting at the long, slow slant of sunset
As they turn the lights on and we stand and sing like monks
In chant before, with once voice, saying our simple blessing: