Semester

Days and days of endless days –
Nobody breathes. Nobody sways.
In one ear and out the door –
They’ve had so much. They want no more.

The driest lessons die in rehearsal,
Without dynamics for dispersal.

Teacher, teacher, how do you say…?
As if in the end there were only one way.

Those who’ve traveled play on the edge;
Those who haven’t cadge and hedge.
Please, please, por favor, they beg.
You could spit wooden nickels and stand on one leg.

Often I wonder just what I would give
To come out on top but it’s all relative.

At the end of term, when work is done,
It’s the end of time. The course is run.

Actividades released with a sigh;
Reglas observed with the wink of an eye.
It’s cyclical, circular, goes round and round.
It ends and begins without a clear sound.

There’s a point at mid-term, however, that’s fine
When for one afternoon I know this is mine.

All that comes later and what went before
Just grind the key which opens that door.