The Catch of the Evening

When the gully breeze bustled through the gums

skimming the heat from the day

we bowled out of the house

and set up stumps under the blue gum.

As always, the catches were what mattered.

Mum’s was the first.

She glanced up from yanking a thistle out of the hardened pitch

and plucked the ball from the air.

Jack caught me out on the full

ball clasped tight against his chest

his whoops and air-punches claiming more skill than he displayed.

Dad didn’t even get a look in

with his collection of one-hand-one-bounces

but I caught him mid-air with a spectacular leap from atop the slide.

Then, as the mosquitos herded us indoors,

I turned to grab the stumps and saw the uncontested winner.

Our blue gum. It had caught the moon

and was holding it triumphantly

in the crook of a branch.

by Kristin Martin