If time is like a river,
then time right here is flowing.
The sun is out, the sky is blue, and guess what?
It isn't snowing!
The plows are in the garage, the sand is in the shed,
the snow has disappeared
because winter now is dead.
The avalanche has melted,
you can see the parking meters,
and the only place you need some salt
is on a margarita.
Of course there's not much parking,
but that comes with the season,
at least, at last, the snowdrifts
and the ice are not the reason.
Baseball's back in Boston, let the children cheer,
a priceless piece of springtime,
and nine bucks for a beer.
Forget about the parkas, the boots,
the hats, the gloves,
pull on that Red Sox t-shirt,
and enjoy the game we love.
We love it cuz it's warm,
we love it cuz it's slow,
we love it cuz it sings
a song of spring that we all know.
Tulips push up from the dirt,
the sun grows wide and fat,
Pedroia snags a grounder, Big Papi grabs a bat.
Come to this hall of memories, this sanctuary of sun,
say goodbye to a frigid season,
and hello to what's begun.
Sandoval, Ramirez, they're the sugar in the cookie,
at shortstop you've got Bogaerts,
and in center you've got Mookie.
These big kids are our brothers,
and this ballgame is our friend,
the paint is on the wall, and the grass is green again.
Kiss your wife and hug the kids,
and shout out loud "hooray."
throw that scraper in the garage
because it's opening day.
So long, December backache and February frown,
Goodbye goodbye, oh winter...baseball's back in town.
Listen to Carl Stevens' Poem
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