Forever in the Wind

Forever in the Wind

Kicking tin cans clanging down a dusty red dirt road,

Tromping through the pine light, specks of sun and shade explode.

Quiet, steamy wind stirs the needles at our feet,

Sending up a sometimes roar that quells the summer heat.

We’re walking in our bare feet, but our soles are tough as leather,

We rise each day to play the game – in any kind of weather.

We’re on our way to the Sweet Lake Field – down by the Pokee River,

It’s time to pound the baseball ’round – and crush it to a sliver.

The sound of bats in metered bang – upon the rock-hard dirt,

It’s something just to do in time – we are warriors on alert,

As we jog and march and muscle and hop – our way to Saddler’s End,

The sandlot we are seeking – lays awaiting – ’round the bend,

And we are fast approaching – a day that has no end.

Where life on the summer sandlot – rolls on – forever’s friend.

Come home with your mind and soul – to the sandlot, even now,

If only for ten minutes – or so – let reverie be your plough,

Do it – and inhale, once more – the precious fragrance – of eternity.

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