you play the game to play the game
Once (not that long ago, perhaps) the summers went on
Without end, without disruption, and each day came
Fully equipped with a high sky, the blue so all-encompassing,
So all consuming, that lazy fly balls seemed to disappear
As if God had scooped them up like so many routine grounders.
We played twenty-one, in a field long since abandoned
To crownvetch and scrub grass—five points…
I know we are all looking forward to the warmth of summer, and baseball. Here are some poignant memories from W.k. Kortas, one of my favorite writers. This is far better than anything I could have thought to write about today.
You have written and will write better than this, but I am grateful for the kind words.
As I said before, this is my favorite one by W.K.
Glen
No doubt, it’s a good one.
Bill