it's officially spring as far as i am concerned. as of right now the mets are in first, all things are possible and hey, ya gotta believe!

to celebrate i leave you with a little poem. happy, happy pitchers and catchers!!

harbinger

i heard spring this morning.
not in the shrill chirp of a red-breasted robin
skittering beneath barren branches
but in a garbled, whisky-throated announcer
coloring a static filled broadcast.

where men who play at being boys
or boys who play at being men
dot a dusty diamond
carved in a field of pre-spring emerald
and a game in its perfection
can stop time.