by HoraceClarke66
The summer wind was blowin’ out
At least half the year.
When Soto hit and Judge ran wild,
And we dreamed of golden rings.
Two monsters and the summer wind.
Like painted kites
Those long-ball nights
They went flyin’ by.
The world was new
’Neath a pinstriped blue
Umbrella sky.
Then worse than
Poor Gleyber ran
Cashman sent it askew.
We lost it with the summer wind.
The autumn wind,
The winter wind
Will come and go.
As Giants fall,
And Knicks appall,
Through another barren winter.
And yes those days,
Those dismal days
Will drag on and on.
As Gleyber clings
And Soto brings
Cheer to Flushing Meadow.
Where the hell can we go?
We’ll just have to wait,
For that same-old, same-old summer wind.
Originally appeared in the indispensable Yankee blog, It is High, It is Far, It is…caught.