I stand in goal,
My breath steady,
My hands ready.
My eyes are focused,
My thoughts are trained;
The world slows to a stop.

A teammate yells encouragement,
The coaches give advice;
I stand there on the line and watch
The opposing player’s eyes.

The yellow-coated referee
Blows his shiny whistle
And all on field and sideline still
For this is not a drill

The girl looks to her left
Me, the goalie feels her right
The foot connects
The ball is sent
In a high and arcing shot


I feel my cleats,
leave the ground
I raise my arms up high;
The ball sails through a crisp blue sky,
The shooter’s heart asks, “Why?”