Opening Day 5 a.m.

The darkness had color -- it
reflected a dim wet light at
4:30 in the morning. We
were up early for the opening
Yankee game played in
Japan.

Shayna caterwalled at me
in the hallway as I cut
through the darkness.
Hot coffee and singing
of birds were yet to come.
Katie and Thomas were huddled
on bed and chairs, suspicious of
this nocturnal sojourn into their domains.

You were throwing teddy bears and books
at the baying alarm clock. The whites of your
eyes red. Bone chilled you more as the clock
screemed on.

The space between the color.
I stand at the TV, anticipating.
You look up at the window.
Enjoying the drinkable air.

The black light of a rainy morning
in Litchfield. Washing in a new season.
We drank our coffee, cup after cup.
Welcoming Turtle, Jeter, the oh-so-serious
Mr. Brown and the conquering hero:
Matsui, Matsui, Matsui!!!

Somewhere around the 5th inning I hold your
hand to mine. I see your eyes. I'm happy.

© 2004 Phil Allard

*Read more of Phil's Poems at www.philallard.com