Alphabet Soup Minuscule

J.C. Scheff

Batter’s Eye

With a batter’s eye, I cling to this smooth club.

The sweat used to sting these eyes,

As it crawled down my forehead,

Like a teeny ant looking for sugar.

He, who is only guided by the scent of another,

He, who is mute, infinitesimal to my kind.


And I, like you, have made errors.

So, in anticipation, I await another curveball.

If, in case I miss, at least I took a swing.

I would rather be a no hitter,

Than to forfeit what could have been.

Only for a Merkle’s Boner, and a bang- bang play.

We can’t touch them all,

Just aim to appeal, smile and do well for others.

Before we turn to ash and are bagged.


There is more to life than the chase, or a cheap run.

In life, you can look back on the innings you have won, or lost.

You can sit on the bench and long for a replay.

Or, you can anticipate the next ball, the next inning.

And learn to choke up, and clean up.

And crawl back into the game.




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3 thoughts on “Batter’s Eye

  1. We all want a home

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