A small ode to the excitement of the game commonly known as ultimate Frisbee

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It’s sailing, fast, straight at you
Slicing through the air
You slow and turn to meet it
You watch with steady stare

But, no, the wind us tricky
The pass is much too high
You turn and begin to run again
As it goes sailing by

Slowly it loses altitude
As you try to run it down
Nearer, nearer, nearer
Don’t let it hit the ground!

Another gust of devilish wind
It angles to the right
Gracefully you twist and turn
To keep it in your sight

Now it’s right above you
But it’s curving faster still
Only luck will get it now
Or maybe determined will

Out of sight you hear the voices
Your teammates, yelling “Dive!”
But the disk is coy, unreadable
It moves like it’s alive

Now it’s right in front of you
Still it’s moving away
It’s only inches from the ground
Now, you haven’t got all day!

Quickly, you drop to your knees
The momentum makes you slide
Now even if you miss the disk
They’ll at least know that you tried

Abruptly the slide becomes a roll
You’re face is lost in the dust
You feel plastic touch your fingertips
Hang on, now, you must!

The dust clears and you roll back ‘round
You smile as you stand
Unmistakable to those who watch
The disk is in your hand!