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This Year's May
by
Edwin Romond


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Why surprise at the white-
petaled branches nodding
me up the driveway,
scenting each breath
into the house
where my son greets me
in Little League blue
and my wife waits grinning
in the open-windowed kitchen
savored with pot roast and roses?
 
What crust of middle age dulled me
to how good supper feels
with curtains flapping
and all of us talking
as if we just woke up from winter?
Tonight I can’t sit for the TV news.
I need to be out on creaky bleachers
to cheer my boy as my wife
pours me decaf from a thermos.
This May I want nothing more
 
than the sun to stay longer
and light this game we love.
So let the others stare
if I giggle like a goon
when my wife tickles my belly.
Tonight I don’t care.
I just want my jeans against hers
as we watch our only child
tiny in the outfield
dash through twilight
 
as if no fence could stop him.
 
 
From Blue Mountain Time: New and Selected Poems about Baseball (2002).
Used with the author’s permission.

 

 

Edwin Romond  is a poet, playwright, and composer. Now retired, he taught English for more than 30 years in Wisconsin and New Jersey. Edwin's award-winning work has appeared in numerous literary journals, college text books, and anthologies, and has been featured on National Public Radio. His newest collection, Man at the Railing, from NYQ Books, recently won the Laura Boss Narrative Poetry Award. A native of Woodbridge, New Jersey, Edwin now lives in Wind Gap, Pennsylvania, with his wife. Learn more about him at www.edwinromond.com.

         


Post New Comment:
dotief@comcast.net:
Lovely. I am there. The last line is magic!
Posted 05/25/2012 08:35 AM
phebe.davidson@gmail.com:
Another fine poem; sentiment carries these lines which manage, with considerable grace, to avoid the merely sentimental.
Posted 05/25/2012 06:04 AM


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