Soul's Windows

Softball Pitcher

She strides toward the rubber,
checking release point,
stares,
squints,
inhales,
and starts.

Her arm becomes a whirlwind,
yellow highlighting the end,
and she lets go.

It's out of her control now,
nothing left to do but

Wait...

and pray.

It all comes down to this. Will it be on target?
The sphere slaps into her catcher's mitt,
the Umpire affirms what she hoped.

Strike.

She smiles.