Winter, here, fading
Longer days, brighter sunshine
But cold grips us, still

Signs of spring, here, there
The boys of summer return
Winter into spring

They come, the boys do
To begin, again, anew
The journey, theirs, ours

The boys of summer
They return to the green fields
Wet with winter's dew

Stiff leather gloves, mitts
To be worked and rubbed, and worked
Molded hand to glove

Baseballs, white with red
To be worked and rubbed, and worked
Stitches act as guides

Bats, long wooden bats
To be smoothed, sanded and worked
Ready for battle

They come, the men do
To play a boy's summer game
So simple, so not simple

The boys of summer
Return, their rebirth, and ours
Winter into spring