My Dad told me the trucks left for Arizona a few days ago
bearing the necessary materials to begin spring training.
I told him about an article I had read that discussed
the rehabilitation of two key players from surgery last season.
He said the Indians were in talks to acquire a starting pitcher which,
if successful, would go a long way in the manufacture of preseason hope.
I stood at the back window with the phone to my ear,
snow swirling, adding inches to those already fallen,
and as I blinked I swear I saw
green grass and warm sun out there,
my Dad and I along with my son.
I could smell the earth
and a leather mitt,
a red stitched white ball
sailing quietly between us.
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