Opening Day, 35 degrees

By Stu Shea

Scorecards and pencils
In frostbitten hands,
Cold wind whips like a snake through the stands.
Occasional slats of sunshine
Serve only to bribe us to stay
With their manipulative promises of May.

 


Published in Ballparks, Fans, Free Verse, Stu Shea, The Game Itself | Link to this poem | 1 Comment

Opening Day, 35 degrees: 1 Comment

  1. Hilary Barta wrote,

    A COLD DAY IN CELL

    To only the thick and the bold
    Home opener tickets were sold
    For those who attended
    Were frozen rear-ended
    ‘Cause Phone Field was wickedly cold.

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