have caught the missing moment of each day
taken it prisoner and won't release
a single second of our hope's increase
out of plain fear that golden light could stray
from warming hands that yet know how to play
the human game without harm or caprice
into cold air that would soon end all peace
sending the waiting watchers on their way
have known hard losses and much harder wins
on courses and on surfaces that yield
their gifts to those who have little to tell
though coldest nights save the long count of sins
serving as sustenance across the field
while each survivor wishes they could yell