The whispered scuffle of moving feet The throat that’s nearly dry; Your body is tense, and you breathless watch, Till you fling your arms up –high! The pungent smell of the burning leaves And the blue haze drifting by, And the winter sun that is going down In the oak latticed laden sky, Are not for you, for your heart and eyes See only the moving ball. Oh, it’s not for you that the cricket wakes And the bending treetops sigh, Your body is tense, and you breathless watch, Till you fling your arms up –high! 1961 – author unknown Photo by KKH Photos

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B-Ball Net Poster with poem

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B-Ball Net Poster with poem

The whispered scuffle of moving feet The throat that’s nearly dry; Your body is tense, and you breathless watch, Till you fling your arms up –high! The pungent smell of the burning leaves And the blue haze drifting by, And the winter sun that is going down In the oak latticed laden sky, Are not for you, for your heart and eyes See only the moving ball. Oh, it’s not for you that the cricket wakes And the bending treetops sigh, Your body is tense, and you breathless watch, Till you fling your arms up –high! 1961 – author unknown Photo by KKH Photos

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