Barefoot, they swing broom sticks,
Arcing loops that send
Chipped rocks, sour oranges,
High and then down onto the street
And neigboring lawns ….
No one to scout the boys,
Three won’t play on teams,
Never read,
Never sleep in lone rooms ….
A swing – crack!
A swing – smack!
A swing – ping!
Naturals, no coaches,
Hitting tees, pitching machines ….
Those arcs, so smooth, so sweet,
So Ted Williams ….
And two more boys,
Can’t sleep, and their grandmother
Has them out for a late-nightwalk ….
Eyes wide open, alert.
The grandmother says,
“No, I never read to them –
Spanish or English.”
Count the boys,
One through five ….
Eugene “Gene” Novogrodsky, late December 2011
