oiled in neatsfoot
smooth ash bat handle
heft on my shoulder
scrape of metal spikes
on concrete sidewalk
vivid chalkstripes
on soft tan dirt
seamed cowhide sphere
cupped in my hand
ballcap tugged snug
steppin’ on the ballfield
remembering you dad
Dad managed my high school hardball team. I managed my sons. This coming summer, my son will manage my grandson in T-ball.