Backyard Cricket

A glorious hook shot
Over his left shoulder,
A nod to his batting partner
They take off like sprinters from starting blocks
Runs on the scoreboard
Knowing nobody is fielding
On Risnich's front lawn.

I stand at the crease
Frozen
Watching the shiny new cricket ball
Leave my hand
Bounce once
And the hit.
The arc of the ball's flight
As it takes to the air
Over the letter box, front garden, lawn.
I could see before it happened
The disaster
Of broken glass.