Smell of gloveleather
oiled in neatsfoot
smooth ash bat handle
heft on my shoulder
scrape of metal spikes
on concrete sidewalk
crisp chalklines
on soft tan dirt
seamed cowhide sphere
cupped in my hand
ballcap tugged snug
steppin’ on the diamond
remembering you dad
*
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: dVerse
Dad managed my high school hardball team. I managed both my sons after he passed. This coming summer, my surviving son will again manage my grandson, this time in his first year in Little League — and so it goes.