"I am not one who was born in the custody of wisdom. I am one who is fond of olden times and intense in quest of the sacred knowing of the ancients." Gustave Courbet

24 August 2024

Ah.

AN ODE to THE CORNER

Read the roll of those that played
Count every face; the crowds that made
A church of light, a field of dreams
A century of us; our team

Farewell the sun, and bar the gates
As fades the final roar
The brightest home; our eager youth
Like summer is no more

But ah, the blue and green of it
The light upon the field
The noise, the smell, the crowd, the sky
Our common heart revealed

The many, one; in summer’s sun
We pulled the runner home
A grassy sea, an English ‘D’
The athletes’ skill a poem

The memories stray in twilight’s fade
Was Boone at first, or third?
Did Kaline stem the Cardinal tide?
Who was it caught The Bird?

But recalled exactly in our hearts
We loved our time, this place
100 years, let’s go! … play ball!
The thrill … this park … its grace

Echoes carry; springtimes fly
Now autumn’s shadows yield
Forever winter drapes the cry
“Long gone!” across the field

If there be ghosts that know the land;
Called back to hallowed scenes
My father and my father’s Dad
Still hold this field of dreams

That section there, in leftfield high
My father and I came
And then, in turn, I brought my son
To our eternal game

So read the roll of those that played
Count every face; the crowds that made
A church of light; a field of dreams
A century of us … the team

Tom DeLisle

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