Spring training games started this week. I turned on the Red Sox and saw a whole roster full of names I didn’t know. Most of my favorite players over the past few years are gone for one reason or another. Thank goodness baseball and poetry (and spring) all go well together.
spring training
the ground is still
frozen at Fenway
but they’re swinging
for the fences in Florida
I recognize the front
of the jerseys but
their shoulders carry
strange surnames
asking me to believe
once again that
anything is possible
chances are that
my heart will break
like a curveball
come autumn
but this is not then
it is hope season
uncertainty is in the air
anything can happen
nothing stays the same
the crack of the bat
creates possibilities
no matter who swings
it’s too much to say
they’re practicing
resurrection but
it is about new life
for as long as it lasts
about making errors
and going home
making room for
new names to love
Peace,
Milton
I’m wearing my Red Sox earrings to work tomorrow – of course I will be the only one in the office but still…