Tag Archives: Poetry about cricket

The Opening Ball Of Summer.


Summer should only start at the moment

when the first ball of the opening innings

of the first test is sent down the pitch

by a bowler who has found an extra yard

since Christmas.

Whilst April and the wet dew of Spring

heralds the days when you can ignore family

for six months of luxury

of a set of headphones firmly

implanted down the ear

and the commentator’s eye finding

the slow drawn crease akin

to the artistry of Michelangelo’s David

and attendance of the