It is the jog, the pace, the slow me down rhythm of the sport which lulls us into noticing that the sky has turned pink and purple and navy. It is how the bells ring two blocks over and you figure it's about that time. All sports seem southern in the south but this one...we're just playing in the yard.
Today I am grateful for how the grass is always the same color and height, how the dirt is raked, and the bases brushed. I am grateful for how a group of people work together to make sure the yard is something they're proud to share.
No comments:
Post a Comment