Baseball Poem

Baseball Season to Begin

by Erif Forgaard

T oday I share a snow-dusted lawn
with my father
and the smell of leather

a season removed from the shy promise of spring
a lifetime removed from a youth without baseball

Today we're having the game of catch we never had
catch we should have played 25 years ago
huddled under thick jackets
there is a healing here

Back and forth
the mitts pop -
the times he was there for me
the times I wasn't there for him

amid the rustle of pines
there is a rhythm here

Back and forth
the ball floats -
across the lawn
across the years

Perhaps winter is not the time for this
perhaps his arm is not what it was

but this morning beneath the cool gray
under the white silence I am young,
and this man who walked with giants stands
breath rising,
snow falling,

a giant still