Maples in May

Outdoor air enters eagerly through an open egress

Blinds bend from a brisk breeze

And april showers give green to the elm trees

Maple swings through a living room 

And the seams have begun to leave

Creases on the prints of my fingertips

Grounds are damp

So I do what I can

To cram in reps

And swings of a bat

And as I swing

The TV switches

No longer wishing

And waiting for pitches

Everyday in awe

As I watch from afar

Catches at the track

And robberies at the wall

The days that I’d go

To those places I know

So well I could tell

You the amount of wins

The ace has, and the distance

From the center field wall

To where home plate lands

In a forward lean

As I try to see

The action from the third deck

Who’s at the plate and who’s on deck

The innocent smile

Of a kid

So entranced

By a pile of dirt

And a bunch of grass

I watched everyday

The spectacular plays

Made in that outfield

And I always wished I could say

It was me that could lay

All out on the grass

Ball in the glove

Roaring cheers from the fans

But I’m happy it’s not

Cuz if it was

I’d look at opening day

And it would no longer make

Me smile like it did

Back when I was a kid

Because at that point

It’s not just a game 

You play on the dirt

But unavoidable pain

Unavoidable work.

I walk through this rain

And the leaves hit the ground

And something in my brain

Remembered the sound

That leather makes

When the ball meets the mit

And dad says, “nice pitch”

And like a batting champ, it hits:

Someday, when May hits

I’ll finally get to relive

The wonders of the game

With my own kids.