Out of Left Field

When I was young my parents made me play little league
The kids would always put me in left field
Where I could look at changing clouds around my head
Or shining dandelions at my heels

I used to pray the ball would never come in my direction
But if it had I never would have known
I’d look down the field—my team had magically
Changed into the other team—so I knew I had to go.

When I was young my family moved up to New England
And a spreading wooded hill was my backyard
I got lost in hardwoods overhead, brambles below
Out of view of all the houses streets and cars.

I pleaded with the big bulldozers—men with blueprints in hand
who marched forward every time I turned my back
One day I woke up and looked out on the forest I had known
And saw muddy tree stumps burned in asphalt black.

When I was young I’d search the fields for bugs and flowers
I’d overstuff my pockets with rocks and shells and sand
Now I’m grown my days are pockets filled up more than I intended
But I always try to keep an open hand

So Lea when we met I hoped you’d dance in my direction
If you had not I never would have known
All of the sweet signs of your affection—I look up
As your eyes reflect a deep love of their own

When I was young I looked for planet giants in morning skies
Lost the world sometimes when dreaming of the stars
Now my losses are the cosmic dust that burns into the dawn
Shedding light on us—how we have come this far…

So I’m standing at your door I watch my breath drifting away
I hold a branch with a winter sweet bloom
Thinking I’ve been lost in flowers for most of my life
But lately I am also lost in you…

Copyright Tracy S. Feldman, All rights reserved