A Baseball Novel by Thomas D’Arcy O’Donnell
Thomas D’Arcy O’Donnell
The light beating of surf on smooth rounded stones..
from Japan the waves have rolled for days upon days
and now after curling around an archipelago of small islands
they’ve come to kiss the shoreline.. gently now..
tired.. seemingly, from the long journey.
Fragrant salt air pervades the dawn..
and seems to breathe you in.. deeply, easily
holding you.. forever..
and breathing your soul gently out, sifting shapes appear..
in wisps and tendrils of pale fog, skirling and weaving.
Just visible through the shifting mists..
a strangely reminiscent building wavers there
hewn redwood and cedar longhouse.. from long ago.
A totem pole emerges from the swirling fog..
crow and eagle.. orca .. man.. woman.. bear.. salmon
Time is on hold.. no clock is ticking here.
Water pervades all.. trickling from the steep land.
This is the temperate rain forest.. with deep fragrance of wood.
Almost overpowering is the essence of pine, riding sharp and clean
over top of the deeper scents, down on the forest floor
the land canted at times, so impossibly steep.
Realm of mother nature
meaning is strongholded here..
great power has been here
is here.. cannot leave .. lives here.
Place of the people and the salmon
meridian of sea and sky and land.
Dark and steep the forests
water running everywhere, downhill..
harsh cry of eagles, high above the damp shroud..
.. morning on the Pacific Coast
.. mountains and sea meeting
It is a place of life.
The sun begins to burn thru the mists.
Written by diamondwalker
November 21, 2008 at 6:42 pm
Posted in Author's Notes
Tagged with adventure, baseball, Baseball Novel, baseball scripts, Baseball Stories, batter, blog novel, blognovel, bunt, canadian, catcher, diamond, ecology, environment, fastball, fiction, film property, home plate, knuckleball, literature, marine, native american, novel, orca, strikeout, walker