A whining wind blows tumbleweed
across its unkempt yard,
unputtied windows don't impede
the dusty disregard
where teachers' hasty mea culpas
paper the schoolroom floor.
A busied class with grand ideas,
has rushed the ingress door.
Blackboard scribblings still in place,
forgotten their review,
jokes, and smiles whose chats retrace
the searching of a few
for tools by which good tropes are made,
finding that closeness transcends
lessons! Proximity displayed
its yen for lifelong friends.
Who knows their dingy history,
abandoned one room schools,
retelling ancient mystery
and duty's golden rules
to wide-eyed wondering wannabes
absorbing every word?
Those sages engaged Truth's decrees,
their tests assured it heard!
Faithful teachers, with well-earned pride,
your graduation stage,
now promenade. Let us provide
applause, the tribute page,
vocation done, a race well run,
to accolades of grace.
Embrace in peace the setting sun,
our books mark well your place.
Poems From the Goober Tree http://nathoo.wustl.edu/goober_tree.htm
[This message has been edited by H. Arlequin (edited 11-05-1999).]