Plymouth Magazine-Summer26-DIGITAL - Flipbook - Page 29
August Without Baseball
By Dave Murrin-von Ebers (framed version to the left)
He’s walking on a dirt road, watching the summer sun
change the oak tree’s leaves from green to orange, when
he stops and reaches a hand to the side of the road to
touch one of the flock of Queen Anne’s lace. Queen
Anne’s lace was his mother’s favorite. The white flowers
smudged by the surrounding green stalk like a diamond
sitting in the prongs of her ring.
The dust that walks with the evening wind leaves the
dull taste of dirt in the back of his mouth. The taste
of Saturday afternoons at second base, but it’s not the
taste that reminds him of baseball, rather it’s this ashy
road, now covered in shadows, that leads to the once
manicured green diamonds.
He walks on until the oak leaves scratch against one
another in the evening breeze, and he can see where
the lights were torn down, and where the rusted fences
still stand, and he thinks to himself it wasn’t the Queen
Anne’s Lace that reminded him of his mother. No, it’s
the fields themselves, where he pretends to hear her
talking from the bleachers; no Queen Anne’s lace,
and no ring on her finger.
These poems were written by my son (and Plymouth member), Dave Murrin-von Ebers. Dave majored in
Creative Writing at Denison University in Ohio. He is currently a small business owner in Des Moines, The
Bartender's Handshake. He has written wonderful poetry over the years, many were gifted to me as birthday gifts.
These two are my favorites. The August Without Baseball was put into calligraphy with graphic by my daughter,
Tracy Murrin. Dave and I are both August birthdays, so the Flags poem of 2017 was especially powerful.
Plymouth Magazine 29
