Saturday, March 26, 2016

Never Eat Pickles Before Bedtime

[to my Grandfather, Milton B. Young ("Gramp")
who bought my sister and I a ton of crackerjacks in our
times plus (pink and green perfect) Arkansas picnic table roadstand watermelon afterwards....]

the wide skies over the ballpark suddenly filled up with angels
like a child's drawing in a December pre-K
what's that in their hands

asked the teacher
when suddenly the same scene unfolded out the window

and she saw clearly the hot dogs on the toasted buns
minced onions, a slather of mustard
rather heavy on the pickle relish

I blame all those teams praying for God to help them win
must be, centuries now of banked up prayer
the wind shifted

the angels were singing
you could hear them really well

peanuts, crackerjacks they wheedled
and the organ music swelled

mary angela douglas 26 march 2016