of grading and planning,
of reading and running,
of commenting and connecting,
that I feel as if I lost ten hours
instead of just one?
How is it possible that in this preterm spring
the sun sets in a brilliant display
behind wintery bare branches
in broad strokes of violet and pink
as if to say, "Flowers, you will soon
arrive to follow my lead."
It is entirely possible. I know.
I like how you link the season of preparing to teach with the season of late winter. With all the preparations complete, the flowers are about to bloom.
ReplyDeleteA love the rhythm and alliteration of this poem. I've read it aloud twice because it brings me so much pleasure.
ReplyDeleteThe question at the end of the first stanza had me puzzled at first. Hey, sounds like all that busyness DID take 10 hours. Then your lovely sky imagery slows me down. Coupled with your confident assertion of the possible, I'm looped into your allusion of daylight savings time with its precious lost hour. I think your poem breaks the tie, champions beauty; in the end, saves us all from the remaining dredges of our bare-branched, leaden winter. Yay, Leah!
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