Headingly beckons, a county rivalry

put on hold for an innings

or two, as I make my debut

at the boundary edge, sunshine opens play

I hope, as quiet reflection and the buzz

of cricket commentary updates me

on the activity on

and off the field.

Headingly beckons, a trip from once Lancashire coast,

into the heart of dear Geoffrey territory

and Botham glory, dreams of opening

against a spinner with pace

on the wrist, and the delight of a Pakistan crowd

exuberant, decked out in colourful flags

and the stirring run up of

Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy.

Headingly beckons, Lords visited,

Old Trafford, cricket of course,

a temple of the game, lived so close

to Edgbaston, but have never seen a match

there, nor Trent Bridge, Hampshire for a one day

with Richard, stumps bowled over in quick succession;

Headingly beckons and a six caught

by my own hands at the boundary edge.

 

Ian D. Hall 2018