Spring, you’ve returned, like an answer to prayers!
Time has passed, we need your distraction.
I see you’ve roused up some baseball players.
Do you feel safe and well? Prepared for the action?
The grass is cut, your gloves look oiled with pride.
Our National Anthem, solemnly played.
The ceremonial first pitch: far outside.
Now let’s see all these changes you’ve made.
Cutout fans, hotdogs curbed, some missing names;
the applause is now canned, not the beer.
I also have read that you’ll play fewer games;
no tobacco, or spitting, that’s clear.
You can’t argue calls in the umpire’s face,
two masked men in the wrong.
And my Orioles lost by 10 runs, safely spaced.
This team makes a short season long.
Your uniforms show that you stand with Black lives,
with sewn patches, you can’t be fad hunting.
We all hope this sentiment deeply realized,
and not just some decorative bunting.
We all pledged “Liberty and justice for all.”
Tolerance: our Pastime must reflect it.
Like a soiled and forever unclaimed foul ball,
those loud bigots won’t win, we reject it.
Fighting and running, throwing and swinging,
we will endure this ordeal.
America evolves, plays yet one more inning.
In fact, that’s us on the field.