Loud Outs

No one lofts a loud out           to the left field

fencing with its ads           for Meacham's Auto

and McClintock Paints.           There's no bravado

at the plate at all.           No southpaw deals

his slider for a strike           no one appeals,

since no one lent           the anthem her vibrato.

This afternoon the high,           off-tune legato

in the stands was only           wind on steel.

But even though the team's           due back in town

tomorrow evening,           though a storm is spinning

this way now, and though           the world's beginning

to dissolve in dust purled           off the mound,

a patience rallies           as the dark spills down

another rapture           into extra innings.