This Earth-bound Ball

Finding a lost ball
Was the mystery of it all.

A rolling ball gives pace
To otherwise static space.

A passed ball expects reciprocation.
At the least, consideration.

The ball struck with great force
Has no other recourse.

A ball that is bending
Is an instance of time pending.

Every ball in flight
Carries hope into light.

A ball touched by many
Has a spell cast already.

A ball that is caught
Vanishes from thought.

A ball thrown with precision
Is humankind in transition.

Though we can’t save the sun
With a ball we can make it run.

My Olympia

The weightlifter fails
Under the weight of whales.

The pole vaulter
Climbs a ladder of water.

That beautiful physique
And yet being’s hide-and-seek.

With all that training
The spirit is yet straining.

At the limit of plasticity
A gymnast attains divinity.

To the stillness of speed
A sprinter must concede.

Against the elements
The athlete seeks a settlement.

The fencer feigns a thrust
And the foil turns to rust.

On the balance beam
Equilibrium’s extreme.

The wrestler finds
He grapples with another mind.

For Javier Sotomayor
Height was a metaphor.

For Mike Powell
Distance was conceptual.

In stories that are told,
In shadows that are gold,

On medals that are made
Transcendence is engraved.