This will be a sign for you

It was the last soccer game of my second son’s high school career yesterday. Here’s a poem that was written many years ago, at the end of one of his first soccer seasons.  It was published in The Christian Century in 2004

This will be a sign for you

It might have been an aspen, a fairer specimen
than the ghoulish leather hands of oak-fall
that wind-whip a crackling plague on my lawn.

Lime and canary, it bore the bitten beginning
of a bruise, a brownish canker of dissolution.
I froze, calculating this token of mid-autumn.

With nothing to match its fruity smoothness,
when you said, here daddy, I said, thanks buddy,
see you at three for the last soccer game of the year.

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