Simon Armitage

The Catch Forget the long smouldering afternoon. It is this moment when the ball scoots of the edge of the bat; upwards, backwards, falling seemingly beyond him yet he reaches and picks it out of its loop like an apple from a branch, the first of the season.

The Catch

Forget
the long smouldering
afternoon. It is

this moment
when the ball scoots
of the edge

of the bat; upwards,
backwards, falling
seemingly

beyond him
yet he reaches
and picks it

out
of its loop
like

an apple
from a branch,
the first of the season.

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