Bases Late

This was the sunset yesterday as I left the junior high school. I'd stayed late to watch the baseball team practice. They stayed practicing long after I left. They really are like monks. When I walked onto the field, every single one of the fifty or so players stopped, took off his or her hat, and bowed. They did that every time a teacher walked onto the field.

I say "his or her" because there are three girls on the team. At other schools, usually there are one or two girls. They wear the same full uniform as the boys every time they practice. The only difference I see is that the girls don't shave their heads.

Their enthusiasm for the sport is amazing. But plenty of them like to joke and horse around. Two of the strongest hitters set up near my seat and showed off their skills. One of them tossed balls to the other who slammed each one into the net or occasionally well over the top of the high fence into the distant rice field. The strength in their hits was palpable. One of them pointed at the other, grinning, and said, "Ohtani-san."

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A basic smile cinched the face to full.
And here expression meets a human hue.
With feathers fluffed a love's horizons pool.
A fervent letter starts and ends with Q.
A fire dream was dancing by her head.
A snarling glass was broken years before.
Departed kings remain as restless dead.
The sand was grey along the violent shore.
Another shade of red entangled stairs.
To rap the door a bell constructs a ring.
The quiet pond contained reflected bears.
From early dawn the birds refused to sing.
The air was blurred for lingered petal pink.
Kinetic games displayed the motion link.