Meditations On The Baseball Frost
It’s cold, damn it
Bone-chilling cold
And grey
And wet
And grey
Even when the sky is clear
It’s grey
Leaves are wrinkled
Scattered about
On the ground, scattered
The trees stand empty
Greyish brown and empty
The trees
They look at you
With sadness
One day, a reprieve
A clear sky turns blue
The grey is pushed aside by the blue
The blue, with a bright shining sun
The kind of sky that makes you say
It’s a beautiful day for a ballgame
Let's play two
And it is
You grab your glove
Your ball
Your friends
Your kid
Or just your glove and ball
You feel the leather glove
The leather ball
You feel the softness
The hardness
The stitches
The staleness
Outside, into the blue
You toss
You catch
You stretch
You dream
The trees
They look at you
Smiling
The trees, they know
You know
When there’s blue, shining, shining blue
Green cannot be too far way
Green leave
Green grass
Green grass in the shape of diamonds
