Keeping Score

Coaches say it’s the easiest job. How hard
can it be to turn zero to one? To learn
baseball hieroglyphics, I filled notebooks
with Ks and BBs and F7s and Xs
and arrows telling the story of each game.
I counted pitches, traced diamonds, marked squares,
but I did not need the scorebook to know
that the boy at bat who played for snow cones
hadn’t had a hit all season. On this last Out
of the last inning of the last game, I X-ed
the first two boxes, began to mark the third
when I heard the thunk of bat on ball.
The umpire forgot her place and pumped
a fist to the sky, the dugout kids popped
off the bench and the parents flew from the stands
like popcorn flying from a hot air popper,
the noise of their cheers rustled the leaves
of the trees, butterflies beat their wings,
parked cars honked horns, the passing train bellowed,
neighbors threw open their windows,
kids cartwheeled on lawns, chickens ran,
squirrels leapt, hawks cried, and above it all,
the sun spread its peach into a wide smile.