Gene's birthday at Eisenhower Park
Could
every day be today?
A
day at the park
with
husband and kids,
swinging
a wiffle ball bat at wind swept pitches
until
we tire of the outfield heat.
We
switch to soccer under the cool shade of the oak trees
and
kick the ball to win;
shins
collide,
elbows
meet ribs,
accidents,
of course.
We
remind the young—
this
is not the playoffs.
Eventually
one side wins,
And
we collapse on the crunchy grass.
A
strong gust tosses leaves across the field
And
our faces.
Foreshadows
of fall.
Sweat
soaks our shirts,
drips
down bare backs,
and
calls for ice cream sundaes
with
extra toppings.
This
day with our family
Is
another memory to remind me
Of
God’s blessings.
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