Chalk Lineage

chalklines

 

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.

42 thoughts on “Chalk Lineage”

  1. You rarely disappoint, Rob mate, as in never….this descriptive verse is the quadrille should have written, that intricate and detailed description….with stunning ending…I learnt something there…

  2. This is perfection. My Dad played. My brother played. Both of my kids played tee-ball when they were 3 and 4 (what fun that was!) These sights and sounds and smells carry so many memories for me. So glad the chalk took you there.

    Healing hugs, my friend. Thankful to your beautiful Kathy for updating us over at the bar.

    1. Thank you so much De! I am getting slong, but that was scary. Nothing I had experienced in my life, and I have had, and still do have all kinds of health issues

  3. Rob, I love how your family has carried on the tradition. I had no idea you played hardball (is that baseball with a hard ball?) Your grandson is getting older. Time flies. I can see you there in the bleachers, watching your son with the team of young tykes.

  4. OH how I love this, ROB. Baseball, the crack of a bat, the crowds, a hotdog and crackerjack box, the ST. LOUIS Cardinals. My dad who ferried me across the Mississippi from Illinois to Missouri for games as a child. Two teams the Browns and the Cards.

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