After the Fall Classic

By Stuart Shea

The days of cool sun have drawn in,
With the regrets of how a fool spends his time
Crunchy leaves now, grey on the way.
And now, just when I need the light,
The game closes up
For the season
Until that day when the snow
Is, unimaginably, miraculously, melting into the ground.

Published in Uncategorized | Link to this poem | 1 Comment

After the Fall Classic: 1 Comment

  1. Stephen Jones wrote,

    Baseball From New York Bleachers

    ?The summer came and went.
    Is it now time to vent?
    Yankee fans would say
    “Yes, the team’s in disarray.”

    Maybe it’s closer to present truth:
    This house wasn’t built by Ruth.

    The playoffs were exciting,
    But in NYC it’s pinstripe thinking
    Which has everyone talking
    About who’s leaving, who’s staying.

    And there’s no end of tabloid speculation
    About the future Yankee organization.

    Here, huddled in cold bleachers, I can say
    “Wait ’til next summer!” Baseball has a way
    Of gilding our tomorrows with expectation,
    Polishing the future with anticipation.

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