the summer catch

on the short grass
of summer
we'd take
the ball to the field
and throw
and throw until
our arms hurt.
each year
a little faster,
a little longer
he would become.
his hands
more sure.
his moves quick
and fast
as he dodged
invisible defenders.
soon, it was he
outlasting me
as it should be.
but we stayed
until the last
light. we'd run,
we'd throw
on the short
summer grass.