There was a lot of rain. I could tell
that you understood its soft sway.

You moved around the diamond like a firefly.
Once you were the catcher, and the next time
I saw you on third base, leaning towards home.

The uniform you wore was long and loose,
but I could almost see you growing into it,
like a second skin.

The night when you turned six, you held
the smallest present in your hands,
closed your eyes for a moment,

and then opened them, the way a batter
does just before he steps into the box.