
The Swing
Posted By : Mitch TobolLast weekend our Gotham picnic inspired a poem: Seven years since I last took a swing,The bat feels strange, a heavy thing.Muscle memory, faint and slow,I grip the handle and give it a go. The ball comes in my heart skips a beat,A rusty swing, unsure on my feet.But as it cracks, I feel the thrill—The love of the game is alive still.