Last Days in The Sun

The cricketer in autumn;

Deliveries so many leaves

Falling, trailing where once

They spun and dipped;

When he cocked the wrist

Venom flicked from upturned hand;

Parabolas of slow death

Rolling out, shining.

So long ago, when the sun

Loosened the fingers, when

He bounced in on his toes

And knew. Just knew.

That each ball was loaded,

Cocked for the slow kill

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4 thoughts on “Last Days in The Sun”

  1. Great cricketing piece, John. I like those dry leaves falling, the only deliveries left. Reminds me that NZ ‘Beat’ poet, David Mitchell, was a avid cricketer!

  2. i love the game too. Bit of a toss-up for me – pace or spin. Certainly a good spinner can make you look silly. I like that image of the cricketer (like a Cricket, naturally) trailing out

  3. I’m afraid I have little skill in the face of spin or pace, or swing for that matter, but it is still the best game by a country mile.

  4. I’d rather face a pace bowler…so many stumpings playing against spin! I like the dry autumn leaves spinning in the air, I see them collected, turning to wet mulch in the single practice net we have here

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