Sonnet on Cricket – The Batsman’s Hope

For those of a cricketing disposition waiting for the start of the Ashes, here is a reprise of my Sonnet on Cricket:

Sonnet on Cricket: The Batsman’s Hope
(Written for James Breen)

It seems a game of hard and bitter loss:
Dismissed upon a sudden slip, expelled
When all about is set to tempt and snare,
And enemies are ready to devour.
Our time upon the crease is fragile as
This life. No glory of a century gained
Will save us, but that we flail at some forbidden fruit,
Well pitched, and from the field take
Our solitary way. But oh, this game
Is brother contest of the English earth,
Which as it raises up the fallen flowers
Forgiven as they tried the summer sky,
So cricket’s rhythms overtrump our loss:
Over to over abides; and drawn stumps
At autumn’s end betoken not a close,
But play redeemed in fullness of the spring.