On A Field They Call A Diamond

On a field

they call a diamond,

in a league

that goes by little


where the big kids

strut in the majors

and the young ones

swing at a tee


where the crack of the bat

sounds like “my hometown,”

and the waft of the mitt

smells like tomorrow’s nostalgia


where playing ball

is best with buddies,

and chants and cheers

compose the soundtrack


where grass stains

are worn like medals

and red dirt

clings to knickers


where post-game pictures

mean piggyback poses,

and concession slushies

reign supreme


where ball caps

frame big bright eyes,

and black smudged cheeks

mark wide-faced grins


where a win

produces heroes,

and a loss

is consoled with hugs


where each new season

sees them grow,

and Cooperstown

visits their dreams


where the dugout

feels like a backyard clubhouse,

and the sidelines

feel like community


where a home run

is greeted by whooping teammates,

And a strike-out

is met with encouragement.


where seeds

are shared like candy,

and a pickle

grabs our attention


where childhood

is celebrated,

and a red-stitched ball

brings us together


there is a whisper forming

they’ll hear in days to come,

and when they look back

something inside will smile and say -


those... were good days.

1 Response

Christopher Kent

Christopher Kent

May 16, 2024

A beautiful and accurate piece! I would love to frame these words with a picture of the diamond my sons play on now for them to recall in their future days. Wonderful work!!!

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