Poem of the Day 1/28/21

Sitting, like Rodgers Hornsby, looking

Out the window at the bleak winter day

Waiting- yes, for Spring- for the green grass

And the heralding crack of bats,

For Trout and Mookie and Thor, X-man and Judge, the Polar Bear,

For days less full of nights, certainly

But waiting, also for you and me,

For that version of you and me,

Wandering in lone back fields

And riding rough pine beams

Or watching quietly at night

For sometime we have not seen

Yet in the old ballgame,

Quiet, with sweet anticipation,

Waiting, once again,

For the smallest shred of magic to be reborn,

In a Spring night’s journey home.

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