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Desert Hopes

by Celeste Johnson

Year dawns. Spring beckons Players to the desert
To begin the journey once again. What glories,
What tragedies await, the heart does not know.
It is the story that weaves its way through
The spring and summer months and if fortune,
The Gods, and the strain of blood and muscle favours,
One will see October from the dugout and from the stands.
Those hopes born in the fresh and newly sown
Green Grass of Spring. The Desert gives hope and life
To such dreams. Many of them will dissipate as the
Weather grows warmer in the North but early in the
Desert there are more than enough dreams to go around.

 

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When Spring Really Arrives

by Susan Petrone

On every tree, the branches bare
No leaves, no green, no life shows there.
Every building in my sad town
Wears a snowy, slushy crown.

I know beneath the snow and cold
The earth lies dormant, patient, bold.
How I long for Spring’s arrival
and a spiritual revival.

Few sights can make you feel so grand
As the first flower to make a stand.
Nor are there words that sound so sweet
as “pitchers and catchers report this week.”

 

This poem originally appeared on Susan’s Indians website, It’s Pronounced Lajaway. 

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R.I.P. Walt Williams

by Jim Siergey

He was a six-foot man
In a five-six frame
His unusual physique
Was his nickname

He hustled and he hit
And he ran like heck
An eternal fan favorite
Was little “No Neck.”