Watch this kid. He throws the ball

across the plate, chases it to the backstop,

hurries back to the pitcher’s mound,

throws the ball again and again, shouting

gentle encouragements.

A munchkin in a Yankees cap, she just stands there,

never swings the bat,  shows no interest in hitting.  

He keeps throwing the ball as if it’s his job

to be the angel that refuses

to let her be unappreciated or unloved.

I try to remember what it was like

to be learning the fundamentals—

love, heartbreak, sacrifice.

This kid makes all his errors

on the giving side, and I root for him.

This poem first appeared in Wild Goose Poetry Review, 2010.
Used here with the author's permission.