photograph by Bruce Carriker
photographer's note: "Sort of Americana, no?
And yes, that is Gobbler's Knob in the background.
Good for you for paying attention!"
In honor of the World Series, I dedicate this blog post to my twin brother Bruce. In autumns past, he has sent me the following two poems: one in which October itself is described in terms of a baseball game; and one in which we learn what our sports - minded feline friends are daydreaming about!
the high fly ball,
arches out above left field,
hangs there in the sky
outblazing the sun
while fifty thousand heads swings and cry
"Over the wall! Over the wall!"
then hold, fixed and dumb
as the ball drops
down and down, a dead bird
into a waiting glove
and there you have it: the song,
the flight, the perilous whisper of truth
or of love or possibly of faith
then the descent
and the end of the game
by Hester Jewell Dawson
[I could locate no biographical information on Dawson,
other than this brief reference in the Baseball Almanac;
if anyone knows more, please share!]
What The Cat Contemplates
While Pretending to Clean Herself
to her paws
not about what dirt
has climbed under her claws.
No, the cat sees herself
sternly stepping to the plate
spitting in her paw palms
and gripping the bat just so.
With the look of feline indifference
she tends to one final itch
before staring down the pitcher
in the last instant before delivery.
When she rubs
her wet cat wrist
behind her furry ear
you'd think she had a spot
of mud there
or a flea
the cat is signaling
the runner at first
to stretch that lead a little further down the baseline.
By the time
she is perched
on her hind legs
lapping at the fur
of her underside
the cat is sliding safely
by Nancy Boutilier
from On the Eighth Day Adam Slept Alone
© Black Sparrow Press
this one taken by my sister, Peggy Carriker Rosenbluth
photographer's note: "Beautiful fall picture.
Maybe I'll get this made into a jigsaw puzzle.
Taken on the way to Fulton County Folk Festival
Burnt Cabins, Pennsylvania"