High kick then swinging
his arm like a sledgehammer,
he smashed every one
of them. Not the windows
but the balls sliding
down the panes, drooping
away from their dreams
of becoming home runs.
Will the boy's dreams
of one day becoming a pitcher
be smashed like that?
Why ask
if there is no answer in sight?
Ask the blind boy
what is the color
of the snow in his hands.
His answer will be pure
white, purer than any baseball
in any other boy's dreams.
Ask him and you will see.
- John Lee Clark