The Last Poem for National Poetry Month

We spent the weekend in Missoula, Montana playing lacrosse. There was one moment that I just had to try to write a poem about. After finishing the poem, I realized that it is about the connection Julia has with her coach. She is only one of two girls on the team and probably the smallest, but she sure is scrappy (as the other parents like to say). After you read the poem, you can decide how I was feeling at the moment. I'm really not sure. The best way I can describe it is "a tangle of emotions."

Watching Her Play Lacrosse

She sneaks her stick into the

scrum of boys

fighting for the ball,

scoops it up and turns

to go,

bobs this way and that,

avoiding the swarm of sticks

aiming at her stick.

She turns to shoot, and

releases the ball,

just before the

defender collides.

Shoulder meets helmet and

body meets ground.

She lies still.

The whistle shrieks.

Her coach rushes to her,

sweeps her up, and

carries her off the field

like a cherished trophy.

From the sideline,

my tears are dried by the

persistent wind.