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.