Baseball

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I don’t want to live this yet, Springtime

For, every time the birds and bees and all manner of creatures and things -good sports and bad- migrate back

There’s the media storm, the tough talk, the hype, the great expectations placed in the wrongest of wrong places

So I will close my eyes and wait, Springtime

No Longer Doubting

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What I am is not a pale, pink flower
Yet, it is only January
And such things are all I see

Time taking its sweet time
Just for me
And silvery, sunny days

Sudden smiles at the door
That I am well-trained to hear
And voices I don’t fear

All as if a reminder
To never expect
And to expect after all

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Expectant 

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my Society
thought little of me

accept the breadcrumb trail
beg for a Holy Grail 

return home empty handed
scraps to be demanded

now I know what’s true
honor is for me too

my heart the goldest medal
demands that I not settle