Baseball in the City of God

by Todd Herges

“the body, better than it was here in its best estate of health”
Augustine, City of God 13.20

Unlike the mound and infield now,
where grass, dirt, dew drops,
chalk receive and slow
the stitched sphere, will you watch

the cicatrice on the weedless diamond
heal itself before you, glisten
as if untouched but for
the men who cut it clean

of taller whiskery rising strands
that perfect day you found it once,
a glorious Spring day,
in the park in the middle of town?

Or rather will nature be itself
renewed? To the wind give its scars;
the body, its best estate of health
surpassed, from which not its power

but all need is taken, balanced,
sturdy on the spikes; and action:
you turn, meeting the ball with the rounded branch,
willing time true, and each his own perfection.

This is what you wanted, hope for
every time you play:
love casting its heart’s weight’s core
through time to that eternal day.

With apologies to Dr. Gene Fendt