The morning sun sparkles on the dew of the fresh cut infield, shinning like diamonds in the green green grass.

Red dirt, newly swept and moistened, surrounds bleach white bags and straight lines of chalk.

Blue bleacher seats are cleaned and shined and readied for the spring day patrons.

The Ballpark, in its game day perfection, welcomes all fans and players to worship.

Not a single discolored blade of grass in a field so soft, so level, so inviting to the barefoot outfielder.

Light poles stand as watchers of the field, ready to cast down their light to further play into the night.

Billboard lined walls mark the distance to greatness as players taking batting practice strive for its goal.

The stands begin to fill, breaking the silence of the ballpark as venders sing their songs of: "popcorn, peanuts, cold beer!"

Cheers of appreciation sound as each team scores but the final out only brings some happiness.
Game over!

Trash lays scattered throughout the now empty bleachers.
Paper cups and hotdog wrappers blow across the disturbed dirt and crooked chalk lines.

An Erie silence takes over as dark shadows of the night swarm over the park.

A lighted scoreboard stands as final judge and priest showing the results of the day in the cathedrals we call, ballparks.