lenten journal: play ball

play ball

I served a church outside of Boston
back when a curse was still a curse
and every year before Opening Day
Wally would stand and read aloud

Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
Bears all its sons away;
They fly forgotten, as a dream
Dies at the opening day.

he crossed my mind today as the Sox
came up short in the bottom of the 11th
note to self-- write your opening
day poem before the game begins

maybe hope comes easier when
you don’t know the score or maybe not
truth is next year rarely comes through
this year is the one worth living

even when a dying quail sends their
runner home and ends our chances
we only have 161 more times to
send our dreams back out there

I love a game I never played
because it’s about making errors
and going home about believing
this could be our year so*

(*now go back and read the title)

Peace,
Milton