Baseball

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

Green

And when we’re nearly ninety-nine

Fading, yet certain of our fate and the love it made with us

Green still, relatively so

We’ll walk, treasuring the sands, the time

The Bend

Was the water as fine a host as your story told? The global position as true? It has been some time, and I’ve navigated North somewhat, bring me back.

What shifting of the ground beneath your feet? What compromise refused? Oft’ the sands of time serve us, some act as cogs, and some as polish.

Seek with me a patient balance. Find the urgent, too. May it be our paths have merged, when this day ends, when ‘morrow comes.

Point On The Globe

Meet me here, this point on the globe, to see what we must see

There is a hill, there is a kiss, and an eye color I need to prove

On that certain uncertain sidewalk, you seemed as a giant then

In need of you, but I, with no mind to know or mouth to speak

Say our peace now, lest forces drive us our separate ways

Bring your hearted treasures -I’ll save them with you, this time

And so it is today, yet more, to hold a whole lifetime again

The Slumberless Way

He almost asked me out I know

But the law got in the way

I gave him my sky, I preyed him, go

Tell what the stars have to say

Each night I’ve dreams I wish to share

But time’s gotten in the way

It’s midnight, and no one wants to care

A woman’s prophesied play

I’m watching out for his soft heart

But my ache, it wants its way

It’s likely I’ll only know such art

From afar, my eyes kept at bay

Undistracted

I watched
You watch
The fleeting snow
Before it took its leave
You put down your go

What did it tell you
What it told me
That bruises aren’t all bad
That time heals
All things

We saw
The three of us
You, me and the sky
The blue-green in our eyes’ skies
Not one can predict us