Opening Day

Opening day. Sunny and 72 degrees. A Little League parade. Two baseball games. What more can you ask for?

Here's a poem I wrote a few years ago after my oldest played in his first little league all-star game -- the pinnacle of a boyhood dream come true. His first at bat, a ball hit down the left-field line. Some people take pictures; I write poems. Without the poem, I would have forgotten the joy of it by now.


In July’s thick heat
you taught me
the shape of hope
is a boy of ten
set
in the batter’s box

it is the swing of a bat
a body unfurled
for one breath
extended

it is the arc
of a ball over third
and your expectant face
upturned