august night
hot puffs of breath
enter the stadium
the moon witness to all the mistakes under the sun
night
chill
Reid
rises
from
the
mist
bare trees
all authority
gone from our game
Saints hit the front
the stadium changes
tune
long
bomb
the rush
to Cloke
for
crumbs
night mist
Harry up to his neck
in Milne
precious
seconds
ticking
men
huddled
over
the
ball
deep into the last Swan never lost from view…
About rob scott
Rob Scott (aka Haiku Bob) is a peripatetic haiku poet who calls Victoria Park home. He writes haiku in between teaching whisky and drinking English, or something like that.
Perfect description HB. The less said about that match the better.
We were there, dastardly tension……..
Not the outcome we were looking for..
alas, again molly…
Bizarrely HB I was there. Good to see D. Jolly find some form. Still trying to work out how the Saints got back into it and then how they couldn’t win it.