Rain in New York, sunshine in Florida.
I turn on my TV
to watch the first spring training game.
I want to welcome back the boys of summer,
chuckling that it’s still a cold winter here.
It doesn’t matter that
major leaguers and would-be major leaguers
play bumbling ball as if
they are competing in a Little League game.
Fielders make errors;
pitchers issue walks;
hitters flail at bad pitches.
But I don’t care.
I want to welcome the boys back,
and thank them for melting winter’s frost
which has given way to
green fields and bright sun.
My tired clock has been rewound,
and my spirit soars like a high fly to left.