Listening To Baseball In The Nevada Desert Poem by Max Reif
Listening To Baseball In The Nevada Desert
You know the joy
of scanning radio stations
while driving a vast,
uninhabited area at night,
picking up faraway voices
talking only to you...
I just tuned into
a baseball game somewhere,
the crack of a bat,
the cheers of a crowd,
an announcer's voice
drunk on the game —
'the ball drops in for a hit! ' —
like Harry Caray
all those years in St. Louis,
bringing me on radio wings
the news that really mattered,
the news only poets
can deliver today
Max, you can still find these moments.....don't give up on them.
From one who grew up with Harry and baseball and poetry, this poem is a perfect fit for me. Thank you, Max, for reminding me about the desert, and finding that one voice speaking only to Me! Well done!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 7:13:59 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Harry Carey, 'Ladies and Gentlemen, it is a fine Nevada night to scan your radio and listen, instead of being there.' Yeah, right. On the Nevada desert you can catch anything from Bugs Bunny to a revised and edited Warren Commission report...oh, I forgot...they're one and the same! ! Great going here! ! xxElysabeth