I was inspired by another blogger's slice that I found on L squared, and I decided to try my own. A poem(ish) description of the first day of spring:
I glimpse the colors the sunrise paints through the long, vertical windows at the end my long hallway, reminding me there is an outside, that the day is cracking open beyond the mechanical sound of the bells.
Inside the orange glow of the classroom, students read and talk, using fledgling intellects to craft arguments that stand or don't stand, but the attempt itself is what is beautiful, the movement toward logic.
Afternoon rain like a bitter, stingy aunt (maybe I'm reading too much into it because of The Importance of Being EarnestI). Maybe it's not personal, but it feels like it as it slaps down the afternoon run I planned, the sunshine I planned..
Waiting in the chaos of after-school pick-up, I recognize my son's hoodie first. I see his lovely face that never looks not lovely to me. He tells me about a prank his friend played on him and laughs, trying to figure a way to get her back. The ride home is too short--he drops tidbits about his day, and I clutch them up before he gets sucked into his private afternoon world of friends or practice or video games.
The ritual of making coffee, finally time to sit down in an empty room, the noisy quiet of my house. First day of Spring so far.