Perspective
Much is a ado about the man by the plate:
Lumber hoisted high above his head,
Spinning,
Twirling,
Waiting.
Some distance away a man stands;
Sphere tucked in his trusted accessory,
Pores laminated with moist salt water.
He coils, pauses, and releases.
The sphere jolts from his hand,
The lumber springs forward and attempts to greet it.
All eyes are transfixed on the sphere and lumber
Some pray for contact between the two,
Others plea for none.
Emotions on high,
Spectators sorrow or elation depends on the outcome;
All lies on the result of the confrontation between said sphere, and said lumber.