Thursday, April 5, 2012



Opening day of a sport.

The leather lounge chairs point South,
not over home base, nor near the football 50-yard line.
But rather pointed at the 50-something inches of platinum screen
in our family room. It's the first day of football.
Chrysanthemums not budded yet, oak leaves still green.
Traded players work on the field, sweat off-field
as an attempt to fit in with the team.

My husband hangs his Florida State flag on our deck for all
passing to admire. Go Seminoles. Somewhere near a neighbor
is grilling burgers and corn, the crowd yells, the game begins.

Finally, I shut my study door and write a poem.

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