like a casual game of catch,
you and me tossing a scruffy old ball,
hearing it thwack into our soft leather mitts.
Grounders and pop-ups, short hops,
pegs to second, around the horn – the heater!
And time spent sharing a pleasure so simple
poets & philosophers have struck out
trying to measure it; as if a gift from God
It was the spiritual connection of
two generations coming together
savoring one of life’s sweet spots.
It was endless giving and receiving,
love and happiness pitched and caught,
tossed back, caught once more,
again and again, back and forth, back
and forth across the yard, across the field,
across the years, until each catch is a memory
nesting in the well oiled webbing of my heart.