Ode To G

It flew through the air
effortless
on a cloud in
the bloom of spring it
flew, without current from
a western wind, nor hindered
from the darkening horizon
beyond the fence, it flew
toward the target on a rope
sent from heaven, golden
and perfect, the torque of
the spin warped it egg
shape over the green
trimmed level and clean, it
flew with the grace of
an eagle soaring over the canyon
in an amber sunset, it flew with
the determination of a
world class sprinter ready to
break the red tape with its
chest puffed proudly and nipples
ready to make the sharp cut, it
flew over the green in pursuit of a dream
once thought impossible, now
at the end of its rainbow, it arcs
toward the zone on the
paraffin of oxygen, once breathed
by the giants of times past, by
the braves native to this soil, it flew
as if it had only one
life to give for its country, with
hand above heart, and a tear of
sincerity, it flew to the
fang of a diamond, it flew
home, on the range
where the heart is green
green grass of where
the hat is hung, it flew toward a
man named Jack, and Jack he looked,
he saw it coming, he waited as it flew
toward him, and when it arrived
Jack hit the ball.



With great Honor to Master G.