Oh hallowed sound, leather striking crafted willow!
Applause for skills revealed. Stumps toppled or
boundary scored, catch taken or clever turn of bat.
And hazy sun shining warmth upon wide green field.
Birds wandering upon the turf, plucking, pecking as
players contend all about them, pursuing the ball
struck through the thin ring of fielders, a missile
scattering the avian browsers briefly, leaves in a gust.
A quiet pursuit of runs and wickets in Summer,
Players clad in whites or vibrant colours, two teams
in contesting, still respecting – determined each
to overcome the other yet also friends for years,
maybe even for life. Today in opposition,
tomorrow teammates, allies against others.
No room in this Noble Sport for the zealot!
The joy, the peace, the excitement that is Cricket.
Copyright © Steve K Smy, September 2013.
All rights reserved.
The English Idyll